Confluence of Truths
by Liasis
Summary: Hermione takes an uninvited trip into Snape's Pensieve. She learns not only of his childhood but also of his mother's years at Hogwarts, knowledge of Voldemort, love for her only son, and greatest secret-her identity. He learns how to love again. HG/SS.
1. Into the Pensieve

Harry Potter and his world belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

"Professor?" Hermione called into the empty office, her voice echoing off of the cold dungeon walls. She frowned - he was generally here after his third class of the day, grading papers and planning for the next day's assignments. However, his body was not settled in his armchair, his head bowed over the stack of papers as it usually was. She peered into the stock room, knocking on the heavy wood to alert him of her presence. He still was nowhere to be found and she was slightly disconcerted. Hermione placed her bag on top of a work table, determined to wait until he came back, pulled out her History of Magic textbook and began studying the pages intently.

After half an hour of waiting she was beginning to get restless. Hermione stood up and walked around the perimeter of the fairly small room lined with wooden cabinets and shelves. She opened up a glass-paned cabinet and pulled out one of the jars. There was a pickled fire slug inside, floating in a thick green liquid, and she replaced it carefully before picking up another jar with a similar organism inside. She moved through the cabinets, finding cauldrons stacked within each other which ranged from styles in pewter to brass, and then bottles upon bottles of ingredients which included lovage, Jobberknoll feathers, and sneezewort, arranged in alphabetical order and in neat, measured amounts.

Hermione opened a cabinet behind Snape's desk and was surprised to see a small Pensieve, the silvery thoughts floating within the liquid, swirling and glowing as if they had only just been added. After looking around to make sure no one else was there, she took the large stone basin into her hands and lifted it onto Snape's wooden desk. She heard the dull thud as it hit the table. Despite having read many books about their function and how to use them, Hermione had only received a first-hand account from Harry. He had described the cool sensation of his face in the water, and as she leaned over, a little frightened of what would happen, she could feel herself falling down, as Harry had.

She landed stiffly on her feet and looked around the room, instantly knowing where she was. The tall shelves of the Hogwarts library towered over her, dusty and leaning in exactly as they always did. A few Hufflepuffs sat around a table a few feet from her, but they didn't notice her presence. It was strange, for as she turned around parts of her vision became fuzzy. There were entire areas which she couldn't see at all. Walking around a bookshelf, she found a small, thin girl who she faintly recognized perched on a stool with her legs crossed, dressed in what she guessed was a very old fashioned set of Ravenclaw robes. She wore a long grey skirt which went down past her knees, white socks and black shoes, a white blouse with bronze buttons, and a bright blue cardigan. Her black hair was twisted back in a bun, her black eyes scanning the yellowed pages of the book on her lap. Hermione quickly noted that the page she was on explained how to brew an elixir to induce euphoria, which was quite advanced magic for someone who looked like they were only in their third year. She watched as the girl flipped the page and the book slipped out of her lap, landing on the floor with the front cover lying open. Hermione recognized the book at once, for before the girl could snatch it back up, she glimpsed a tiny scrawl of cursive which read "Prince" in the upper margin. As the girl closed it, Hermione viewed the clear lettering _Advanced Potion-Making _on the binding. Her heart leapt and, as everything grew faint, she tried her hardest to memorize the face of the girl reaching for her book, which she now knew was the face of Severus Snape's mother.

Everything turned black, and then Hermione immediately felt a cold wind whipping around her body, snow pelting her face and landing in her hair. She realized that she was now outside of London on a winter evening and saw a woman standing in a narrow alleyway. To her surprise, the woman was a matured and beautiful version of the school girl, now digging through her purse. Suddenly, two men rushed past where Hermione stood in the frayed vision and knocked the woman into the brick wall, grabbing for her purse. Hermione's hand was on her wand, but before she realized that she could be of no help in a memory another man who was walking by quickly wrestled the bag from one of the thugs and yelled at the other.

"Get away from th' lady!" he ordered, glaring at the two men with icy blue eyes and a cold stare. Hermione's heart lurched again as she was being pulled away, noticing the way the woman stared at her savior with admiration, and then aware of his lank brown hair, stooping physique and, mostly, his prominent hooked nose….

The location changed again, and the woman from before appeared again, now arguing with a graying middle-aged lady who was dressed in a fine green silk dress, standing in the plush living room of a well-to-do family.

"He's a Muggle, Eileen," exclaimed the elder, "who you haven't even told that you are a witch! You can't throw away our family's history for a _Muggle_!"

"I can prove to you that he's a good man. He's different than the others!" She wrung her hands unhappily, her dark hair trailing down her back and adding to her feminine beauty despite her pained expression.

"You can find a decent wizard to marry. Even… even a Muggle-born!" she cried, waving her hands in desperation. "But Muggles won't… they don't have the capacity to understand our world. Even if he could accept you for who you are, it will always be something that he doesn't have, he won't be capable of. You are a brilliant witch. Why would you want to spend your life with someone who will always be holding you back?" Eileen's mother was furious, but at the same time terrified for her daughter and the choice she would inevitably make.

After a few moments, Eileen closed her eyes, her pale face visibly strained, tears forming at the creases of her eyes. "I will only ever love him," she declared resolutely, turning from her mother and leaving the room.

"Eileen!" her mother shouted after her, but everything faded away.

There was a glimpse of Eileen and her fiancé at the altar inside of a church, only a few people in attendance at their wedding. The vision came and went quickly, and then was pitched into blackness again. A man was shouting, "You are wrong, woman. Magic is not real!" A door slammed from another direction, and Hermione turned around, trying to make out an image, but there was nothing visible. A woman's stifled cries came from behind her, but Hermione still could not see.

After a few more moments, she found herself standing in a small bedroom with a dark bed, short dresser and large closet, the walls a plain white and with no ornamental fixtures to make it seem as though anyone lived there. There were cobwebs in the corners where the ceiling met the walls, and she felt that it was an altogether grimy place to live.

A much thinner and unhappy Eileen came running into the room, her eyes red as if she had been crying for some time. She opened up her closet, pulled out a small chest from beneath a pile of boxes, her name "Eileen Prince" carved onto the side in neat cursive. She knelt down next to it on the ground, her dress dingier and messier than it had been before her marriage. Eileen was opening her old Hogwarts trunk, her hands shaking as she picked through her old, frayed textbooks, her neatly folded Ravenclaw robes, a cauldron laying on its side and stuffed with old socks, a set of solid gold gobstones, and then last of all a long, black, elegant birch wand which she ran her fingers over. She began sobbing, wiping the tears from her eyes and flicking the wand into the air, watching as a light shone out of the end, flickered, and then went out. Hermione immediately felt saddened; she had heard of witches and wizards losing their power…. How could life ever be the same if she herself lost the ability to perform magic?

Eileen, with great concentration, cast a Disillusionment Charm over the objects before her, making them disappear from sight, locked her trunk, shoved it back into the closet, and hid her wand in one of her drawers. The heavy-browed man with dark hair strode into the room, his entire body in a state of rage.

"I knew," he began, in a thick northern accent, "I knew tha' you were strange from th' beginnin'. But this magic nonsense…. Don't tell me tha' you actually think it's real?"

She looked up at him as she knelt next to the dresser. "I… I was born into a magical family. I went to school for it, to train. I'm a witch, Tobias."

He stared at her with hatred in his eyes and raised his hand, bringing it down with such force against her cheek that Eileen cried out at the harshness of the slap. Eileen's hand immediately reached to cradle where his blow had connected, and whimpered slightly. "Enough," he fumed quietly. "Enough. You're a heathen, and a liar. I will not hear about this magic again." He left, and Hermione immediately understood what had drawn Eileen to him in the first place had turned against her. She had been a small, thin girl, needing and wanting someone to take care of her, and when she had met Tobias he had seemed like the perfect protector. She hadn't realized that his strength would turn against her, that he would become a monster….

They faded before the room reappeared, this time a little grimier and darker than it had been. Tobias was nowhere to be found and Eileen was lying in bed, her back supported by pillows and a nightdress. There was a small white bundle in her arms. Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, for cradled next to her breast was a small baby who could not be anyone but an infant Severus Snape. He had a wealth of black hair, his cheeks a bright pink and his little tongue sticking out as he slept.

"I hope, for your sake, you aren't a wizard," whispered Eileen, laying a kiss on his soft forehead. Hermione stood looking over her shoulder, unable to comprehend the fact that a man such as Severus Snape had once lay in the arms of his mother. She could believe even less that he had come from such a family.

The memory changed and the family was now in a downstairs room of the same small, cramped home. A little black-haired boy was crying in a corner, and Eileen was standing over him to shield him from his father.

"How does he always manage to know what I am thinkin' of? I can list a string of numbers in my head and he can guess them all. Sometimes I'll be sittin' in my chair and he'll appear out of nowhere when he couldn't have been in the room before me. It's not natural, Eileen!" he yelled, daring her to make the explanation he knew she would.

"He's a wizard, Tobias. He was born one," she sobbed, trying to be strong for her son but faltering under the oppressive glare of her husband.

"No…. You can continue with your sickness, but you can' make him a 'wizard' too."

"I can't help it, please!" she cried, falling down to her knees as Tobias stepped towards her, his hand raised again. Eileen flinched as he leaned down, ready to hit her, but his hand stopped in midair before it touched her, impeded by an unseen force. He panicked, backing away, only to find his son's little frightened but intimidating black eyes upon him. Tobias turned to the front door, opening it and slamming it behind him.

Eileen turned around and threw her arms around her small, scrawny son, drawing him closer. His arms wound their way around her neck as well as he sought comfort. "Severus, Severus… I wish I could have told you. I wish I could have given you more…" she wept. He could not have been older than four, his thin face which bore a remarkable resemblance to his mother's burrowing into her neck as he ached to be comforted. There was already so much similarity to his older self, his nose taking shape, his lank dark hair which hadn't been cut recently, his yellowed skin from staying indoors for too long, his deep black eyes framed by heavy brows….

Eileen and Severus faded as the room changed. It was a smaller bedroom than the one Eileen and Tobias slept in, with a little bed and a thin Severus sitting on top of it, a few years older than he had been in the last memory. He was tucked under the covers, a flickering candle sitting on the bedside table to light the room. His mother sat at his side, her arm wrapped around him as she read from the first year's Potions book, _Magical Drafts and Potions,_ which lay open in his lap. It was obviously the copy Eileen had used as a student, judging by how worn the cover was. The look on Severus's face was intent and focused as he took in the information.

After a while Severus's mother stopped reading, closed the book, and had him lean his head against her chest as she stroked his hair. "Would you like to learn how to make potions, someday soon?"

Severus, despite how tired he was, perked up at the thought before quickly becoming dismayed. "Won't Father be angry?" he asked in his high infantile voice. Hermione stepped closer before sitting down at the foot of the bed. It was so strange to be in the room with them without them noticing. She could have reached out and touched Eileen's hand if she had wanted to.

"Yes, Severus, he would be very angry. But you and I, we can hide things like this if we really wanted to. A potion can be easily disguised, not like spells or charms can. He would not know any better, and would probably think it's just soup on the stove. But we'll know better," she said, smiling down at him, tugging at his ear playfully. He turned to look at her, putting his hand up to his ear and smirking in order to hide a grin. His smile was what Eileen was hoping for; Severus seemed to be a very solemn child.

"Mummy, why don't you ever do any magic?" he asked.

Eileen drew away slightly, as though thinking about how she would explain, before pulling him closer. "Well, sweetheart, your father doesn't believe in magic."

"But… if it's real, why doesn't he believe in it?"

"I don't know, love. He was brought up in a place where magic isn't thought to be real, so I think it's hard for him to accept it. He also might be angry that he can't do magic, and I can."

He was silent, before adding, "But you don't do magic anymore. Why would he still be angry? And if he will always be angry, why don't you just do magic anyway?"

She smiled fondly at his cleverness and responded, "It's complicated. But once you go to school you'll be able to perform as much magic as you want without worrying what your father thinks."

"I'll go to Hogwarts in four years, right?"

"Yes, you will." She paused, looked around the neat but dusty room, and said, "But right now, it's time for you to go to sleep." Eileen stepped out of his bed, put the book on the bedside table, kissed him again, and tucked him in tighter.

She moved to leave the room, at which point Severus exclaimed, "Mummy, you forgot to put out the light!" Eileen turned, feeling a little ashamed for forgetting, before a smirk which was identical to her son's formed on her face.

"No matter," she said, waving her hand in the direction of the flame. A strong gust of wind blew out the candle, the smoke calmly rising from the burnt wick. Severus, pleased with his mother's hand magic, smiled and turned into his pillow before Eileen shut the door.

The scene changed again. Eileen was sitting on a chair at the kitchen table and Severus was standing at the stove, bits of leaves and berries in his hands, a cauldron brewing before him and the Potions book open beside him as he read. The room shifted and Eileen was now coughing in her bed, a hand over her heart and looking paler than ever, the handkerchiefs at her bedside table stained red with blood. She had completely withered away…. If she had once been beautiful, no one would have known. Severus stood in the doorway, not wanting to disturb his obviously weak mother but hoping to see if she was okay. Then, there was a glimpse of a playground and Severus, not looking well cared for, talking to a young girl with bright red hair.

His mother's bedroom came back into view, Eileen still lying in bed and Severus entering, now older than before. He ran towards his mother, a thick scroll of parchment in his hand.

"An owl pecked at my window so I let him in, and he gave me this!" he exclaimed.

"'Mr. S. Snape, The Smallest Bedroom, Spinner's End,'" read Eileen, wearily. "Well, it's addressed to you. Open it." She coughed and watched his face light up with glee as he read his acceptance letter out loud. Time must have passed for although they were in the same room as before and Eileen looked no better than she had, she was sitting on the ground and bending over her Hogwarts trunk, bewitching the name on the side to read "Severus Snape" and going through what was inside after removing the Disillusionment Charm.

"Well, it's a good thing that the school books haven't changed because I kept all of mine. You're just going to have to use them because I only have a few sickles which will buy your robes. Oh, it won't be so bad," she said as she noticed his disappointment. "You're brilliant enough. You probably already have them all memorized, even the more advanced ones." Eileen turned to her dresser, pulling her wand out from underneath a stack of shirts and cradling it before handing it to her son.

"Take it, Severus. It's birch, about twelve and a half inches long, and the core is dragon heartstring."

"But, Mother, it's your wand!" he exclaimed.

"We don't have the money to buy you your own, and besides, I can't use it here," she said simply. "It wouldn't have a true owner if it was just sitting in my dresser drawer, waiting for someone to use it. It had no other options, so, in a way, it has chosen you, as wands often do. Now, give it a swish." He did, and Eileen watched as golden ribbons shot out of the end and flittered back down to the floor in a heap.

Hermione blinked and she was standing at Platform Nine and Three Quarters, the scarlet Hogwarts Express hissing as it warmed up to leave. Amongst the mass of students she noticed with a shock a few faces she had only known through pictures, or as adults. Sirius Black walked right past her, his parents pulling his trunk, and then a scrawny James Potter, a little farther away, stood by himself next to a large cage with a screech owl inside, looking through the crowd for his parents. She saw the girl with red hair from the faint memory before and a realization hit her. It was Lily. She was waving at Severus, who stood near Hermione. His mother was there, her face white and bloodless as she bent to give her son a kiss goodbye. Tears were in her eyes, and Hermione could only imagine how terrible it must have been for Eileen to see her only child, the only one she loved, leave for school.

The hectic mass of people in the train station around her shifted and she found herself in the silent boys' dormitories decorated in the green and silver of Slytherin House. Severus, much older than when she had last seen him, sat alone on his bed, his body shaking. Hermione reached down to comfort him but her hand went right through his shoulder. She instead leaned over, reading the piece of parchment in his hands.

_Mr. Severus Snape, _

_We are sorry to inform you that your mother, Eileen Prince Snape, was brought to the Ministry of Magic to undergo a court hearing earlier today and has been found guilty of attempting to murder your father, Tobias Oran Snape. He was found unconscious last night in his house located in Spinner's End after Mrs. Snape had fled and hidden in a nearby inn. He was treated for poisoning at a nearby Muggle hospital and will recover. Because of her actions, Mrs. Snape was sentenced to five years in Azkaban Prison. However, because of her frail physical and mental health, she has instead been placed into the Janus Thickey Ward at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries to undergo long term treatment for her sicknesses. Once she has recovered, she will be transferred to Azkaban Prison for the remainder of her sentence. Visitors are welcome by appointment, and we will continue to update you on her condition as she progresses._

_Regards,_

_Blodrick Grompton_

_Head Healer_

Severus stood up, Hermione now realizing his true age and height. He had to have been in his sixth or seventh year. He turned around, so furious and upset that he didn't know what to do. "I hate you!" he bellowed at no one in particular. Hermione was alarmed when he took the lamp from his bedside table and threw it to the ground, watching the glass break into pieces on the dungeon's stone floor. He kicked the table, watching it fall on its side, and then picked up a book on Complex Transfiguration, tearing out the pages in anger and ripping the binding. "How could you…? How could you let yourself be caught?" he cried, his deep voice cracking as the book slipped from his hands and fell to the floor.

Hermione watched as he sunk back down onto his bed and began sobbing loudly, his hands covering his face as he rocked from side to side. She knelt down next to the bed, her knees touching the ground, unaffected by the table or shards of glass which lay there. She had never seen him so vulnerable, so full of despair that she could not help as an overwhelming feeling of grief filled her as well. As his mother had lost him, so he had lost her. Hermione could only imagine the circumstances. How could Eileen have spent any time with her terror of a husband, as sick as she was, without eventually going mad?

After a long time he sat up and turned to the other side of his bed, digging through his trunk. He fished out his copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, opening up the cover and staring at the neat cursive of "Prince" which stained the page. Finding a quill and an ink well, he slowly scrawled, "This Book is the Property of the Half-Blood" directly above and in front of his own mother's "Prince," taking care to match his own handwriting with his mother's, which had always been similar as she was the one who initially put a quill in his hand and moved it within her own to teach him his letters. He flipped through the yellowed pages, his tears dripping off his curved nose and spattering against the instruction sets and illustrations. Hermione could see the beginnings of the massive amounts of tips and substitutions he would eventually write into all of the pages. However, it must have been early in the year, for most all of the pages were full of white space except for the occasional spell or tip that had been written in his mother's own script.

She could sense the wheels turning in his head. He would refrain from associating himself with his father's last name, at least in his own mind, for his father was the one who had refused to acknowledge his wife's magical skill and identity. It was _his _fault that Severus's mother was so ill, that she was trapped in a world that was not her own and never would be, that she had been so abused and unhappy her whole adult life even when with her son, whom she loved more than anything in the world. And now Eileen was the criminal, even though her husband had hurt her far beyond what was repairable. He would spend one night in the hospital, but she would spend years recovering from a life of abuse.

Hermione saw someone moving in the shadows to her right, past the bed. She stood up, trying to make out who it was, before Severus Snape in his adult form materialized out of the darkness. She stared at him, watching him stare back, before she realized with a jolt to her stomach that the scenery hadn't changed. His adolescent self was still sitting on the bed, sniffling, and Hermione's head snapped back to the Severus which had just appeared, her face blanching and then turning a bright red. She had been caught.

"Time to go, Miss Granger," he snarled, grabbing her elbow and jerking her upwards. Her stomach turned as she was pulled up and out of the Pensieve, landing back into her feet, which she realized hurt painfully from how long she had been standing there on the hard flagstones. Severus Snape's face was whiter than she'd ever seen it, and his voice seethed with so much anger he had difficulty controlling it. "What could possibly possess you to go through my private cabinets, you stupid girl! How dare you touch what isn't yours? Do you not know that a student isn't allowed into a teacher's office without permission?" She made to open her mouth, but shut it promptly, trembling harder than she could ever remember trembling. "Of course you do, but you decided to take special liberties with me and my things, didn't you? DIDN'T YOU?" he bellowed, swooping down closer and standing over her, his face slightly flushed but hard as stone, his black eyes penetrating hers, and she knew that he could instantly see everything that she had seen.

She turned away, dry sobs racking her body. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she choked, sorry about looking through his memories, sorry for everything they had contained, sorry that he hadn't told her about his past earlier, and sorry most of all that she had never cared to ask what it was that had turned his heart into stone….

"Out… Get OUT!" he yelled, pointing towards the door. He watched, fuming, as she tearfully grabbed her bag and open book, running out of his office to escape his wrath and leaving him alone. His head was bent over the Pensieve, staring blankly into its depths before sighing deeply, sadly, picking it up and putting it back into the cupboard, locking it with his wand as his hands still shook with anger.


	2. An Illness

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione ran to put as much distance between herself and Snape as possible, but slowed down when she reached a landing on the second floor. From there she walked quickly up the moving staircases, rushing into her private room on the fifth floor and dropping her things on the ground before slumping into bed and crying. She pulled her thick blanket knit in the striped scarlet and gold of Gryffindor up to her chin and buried her face in her pillow, sobbing freely. She had never meant to hurt him or to invade his privacy to such an extent, but her curiosity had gotten the better of her. She had only been down in the dungeons to inquire for help with an especially difficult essay for homework, but now that she had stepped far over the boundaries for a student, much less for a principled Head Girl, there was little chance of his forgiveness.

Crookshanks had come up to curl next to her neck, but he didn't make her feel any better. She pulled her wand out of her robes, set alight a small fire in the grate, and placed the wand on her bedside table. Her room was simple and small, the walls painted a light yellow and decorated with a few S.P.E.W. posters as well as a long full-sized mirror. Her bed was pushed against the left wall, the fireplace to the right as one was walking into the room. There was a paned window straight across the room from the entrance, which allowed her to look out upon the lake and the forbidden forest. Her desk pushed was underneath it, and to its right her own small bathroom. It was dark outside, for it was far past sunset.

Hermione realized the true length of time she had been in the Pensieve – for at least an hour - and was confused as to why Snape hadn't found her earlier. Thoughts about the Pensieve and how terrible she felt about her breach of his trust brought her more guilt and tears, which eventually gave way to sleep.

.

.

.

Hermione woke up early in the morning, her eyes red and burning from crying. She stood up and looked into her mirror, feeling even more miserable than she looked. She didn't know if she could go down to breakfast and chance catching Snape's glance from the staff table, and so instead went to the kitchens and asked for a small bowl of porridge and orange juice which she ate as she sat on the floor by the fire. The castle was getting gloomier by the day as it was early January, cold and snowy with none of the holiday cheer from before. The house-elves were hard at work behind her as they prepared for lunch, standing on stools and bending over stoves, chopping vegetables, stirring soups, and braising meat on a griddle. The kitchens always smelled wonderful and were very inviting, and there were generally at least two or three students sneaking down for some snacks at all times of day, but Hermione noticed that she was the only one there.

She stared into the fire, force-feeding herself the porridge and sipping lightly from the juice even though it made her feel a little queasy. Hermione heard the bell toll seven, and realized classes would start in an hour. She eventually decided to leave the kitchens.

Hermione walked up the staircase leading into the main entrance hall and sat in the empty Transfiguration classroom, listless and sleep deprived. As a result, her lessons went much worse than usual. The seventh years were beginning the more advanced levels of human transfiguration, and Hermione kept unintentionally changing her foot into that of a toad, rather than the desired duck.

Professor McGonagall quickly transfigured her foot back to normal before pursing her lips together and saying, "I won't allow you to perform magic without proper concentration." Hermione was visibly unhappy, and McGonagall, knowing that she wasn't being herself, asked, "Are you ill, Hermione? Why don't you go to the hospital wing, or at least to your rooms, to rest? You're dismissed from my class."

Hermione had tears in her eyes as she left the classroom. She hated anyone babying her, especially McGonagall, and allowing her to leave without chiding her for her inability to transfigure properly hurt Hermione's feelings more than being told to leave on account of feeling unwell. She felt a little sick, but nothing was worse than missing class because she couldn't meet the standards of what was expected of her. She went to her room and closed the door, flopping onto her bed again. Suddenly, she realized with despair that she had double Potions later. There was no way she could spend two entire class periods with Snape breathing down her neck, waiting for her to do something wrong. Finding no other option, and though her stomach felt as if it could not take any more guilt, she resolved to skip Potions class that day. She dressed herself in a red nightdress, despite the fact that it wasn't yet noon, and slipped back into bed.

Hermione woke feeling flushed, sweaty, and fevered, the weight of Crookshanks on her chest adding to her irritation. She pushed him away, sat up, coughed, rubbed her eyes, and realized that she truly was sick, most likely a result of being inside and in close quarters with others more often than was usual for her. The black sky past the paned window told her that she had slept all day, but somehow it had only worsened her condition. Unexpectedly, the fire in her hearth turned a bright green. A letter addressed to her in small black cursive shot out onto her carpet next to her bed. She bent down to pick it up, the blood rushing into her head and causing her to become dizzy. She sat up against her pillows and broke the green seal, her hands shaking.

_Miss Granger,_

_I am aware that you have skipped your meals since last night's dinner, which was apparent from your obvious absences from the Great Hall. Also, I have learned that you felt ill during Transfiguration Classs. However, Professor McGonagall excusing you from her class does not exempt you from my own. Thirty points will be taken from Gryffindor House because of your deliberate failure to attend class, and I expect you to serve detention in my office at 8 o'clock this evening as punishment for your actions._

_Professor S. Snape_

Hermione angrily tossed the letter to the foot of her bed. How could he expect her to serve detention in her state? Professor McGonagall was Headmistress; surely she could cancel the punishment. And to take away house points? _Thirty _of them! It was outrageous! She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece, and was surprised to see that it was already seven thirty. Hermione stood up and went to put on her school robes, rocking back and forth unsteadily, her equilibrium thrown off by her stuffed head and high fever. It prevented her from moving quickly, and consequentially she took five minutes to get dressed. She was not hungry for dinner, but rather wanted to get her inevitable detention over with. There was no use in arguing with Snape about it. She would just have to suffer through it.

She started down the corridors, her head spinning wildly as she found her way through the many portrait galleries which lined the walls. An older woman from within one frame ordered her to go straight back to bed, but Hermione shrugged almost indifferently. She gripped the banister to walk down the stairs, her legs unsteady beneath her. After descending four flights of stairs, she reached the ground level and then took the staircase to the dungeons, winding through the maze of passageways in order to find Snape's office and succeeding after losing her way twice.

Hermione knocked faintly on his office door and placed her hand on the stone wall next to her, to keep herself up. She watched the door open quickly in front of her and the white face of the Potions Master peered down upon her own.

"You're late," he growled, before watching her step towards him and noticing how she shook. "Miss Granger?" he asked, placing his hand on her upper arm. "Are you-" She slumped over against the wall and he caught her before she fell to the ground, her head supported by his shoulder. He leaned down and placed his arms around her back and underneath her knees, lifting her into his arms and carrying her around more passageways, deeper into the dungeons.

He looked down into her red face. Her eyes were closed and sweat shone on her forehead. She must have been very ill, for she didn't seem conscious of what was happening anymore. Snape stopped at a door, twisted his wand at the handle, watched as the door swung open, and stepped inside. With the flick of his wand he started a fire in his fireplace, throwing an orange glow onto the stone walls of the small living area. He gently placed her onto a black couch facing the fireplace. He used his wand to deepen the seat of the couch so that it was almost the size of a bed before bending down next to her, conjuring a pillow, and placing it behind her head. He placed his fingers on her forehead and felt them singe against the heat her body was creating.

Snape stood up and left, Hermione barely conscious and unable to understand most of what was happening. She turned her face into the cold pillow, finally enjoying some slight relief, only to feel Snape's fingers on her cheek and hearing him ask her to open her mouth as he poured a smooth potion into her throat. She heard the uncorking of another bottle, felt the cool glass against her lips, and then immediately fell into a deep sleep.

Snape stood up and turned around as the flames in his fireplace became green, watching as Professor McGonagall stepped out of them. She looked sterner than ever, her light blue eyes piercing his, her hands folded together. Her eyes glanced over to Hermione lying on the couch, and then focused upon Snape.

"Severus," she began, her voice accusatory, "may I ask why Miss Granger is asleep on your couch in your _private_ chambers?"

He stared back at her, drawing himself up to his full height and narrowing his eyes before explaining, "She had a scheduled detention with me this evening for missing class this afternoon, but was much too sick to carry it out. So sick, in fact, she could barely stand. Her health needed attending to, and seeing how I had the necessary potions and she was too weak to take to the hospital wing, I decided to treat her here. Is there a problem, Minerva?"

"This is improper, Severus, and you know as well as I do-"

"What is _improper _is allowing your Head Girl to wander about the castle when she was quite ill and should have instead been under someone's care," he said, his tone acerbic. "As Headmistress, you certainly have jurisdiction over me and my actions. However," he paused, his face cold and impassive as he lowered his voice and muttered, "you know I owe her for what she has done for me. I have a debt I can never repay." He watched the direction of her eyes, waiting for them to shift towards the bare, scarred skin of his throat, but her stare never wavered. "I believe attending to her and allowing her to rest on my couch until she is well enough to go back to her dormitory is the least I can do."

McGonagall pursed her lips together even tighter, looking down at Hermione again before stepping back into the fireplace. "Severus… be careful," she warned, her body engulfed in flames and then disappearing, leaving a red blazing fire behind her.

Snape stood rigidly, watching the flames dance, before kneeling beside his patient. He pulled off his cloak and wrapping her in it before conjuring another, thicker blanket. She would, no doubt, suffer from cold chills throughout the night as her fever broke, and he didn't want her body temperature to drop too far. His face hovered over hers for a moment before he turned away and stood up, walking into his own bedroom and shutting the door behind him.


	3. The Deal

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione sat up, confused because she knew where she was but didn't know how she wound up there. A small window high up in the stone wall let the sun shine through, and she could see a few birds circling up in the blue of the sky. It must have been at least noon, judging by the intensity of the light coming in from the south. She laid back down and suddenly realized that underneath the blanket on top of her, she was covered by Snape's black cloak, the soft material enfolding her body entirely. Her heart leapt wildly. What did this mean? Had he laid it over her, hoping that it would keep her warm? She shook her head. No. He was only repaying her for what she had done for him, nothing more. She slid out of the bed he had made for her, looking around the room.

Hermione had been there before, and was well acquainted with his rooms. She knew that there was a small kitchen to the back of the large living area. Snape had a couch, armchair, and fireplace where she was now, and then a little bedroom and adjoining private lavatory in the next room over, to the right of the couch. It was not much, but he didn't need a lot of space to live on his own.

She realized that she was still wearing her school uniform and took off her already loosened tie, as well as unbuttoned the top buttons on her shirt so that she could breathe easier. She stood up, her head still a little hot, and hesitated before perusing the selection of novels and manuals in the bookcase which hugged the wall between the fireplace and the door. After all, she thought, they were there to be looked through and read. Hermione pulled down the smallest book she could find, a description of a hippogriff's anatomy, so that in case Snape came back she would be able to hide it easily. However, she knew that he taught classes until late in the afternoon and wouldn't be back for a while, unless he decided to unexpectedly drop by, which, she thought, would be quite out of character for him.

Classes! She tried to calm herself down when she realized how much she was missing. Although, in retrospect, she felt that Herbology, Charms, and Astronomy wouldn't be too difficult to make up, but Ancient Runes was trying at the best of times…. She sat down on the edge of the couch-bed, quickly flipping through the small volume.

A loud pop surprised her, as did the sight of a small house-elf with abnormally large ears standing directly in front of her and carrying a plate in her hands. "Flappy brings you lunch from the kitchens, Miss," she piped, thrusting the silver dish into Hermione's lap and on top of the open book, before disappearing quickly without another word. Hermione was thankful but felt a little guilty, for she wasn't hungry at all. She ate a few bites of a ham sandwich before placing her unfinished lunch on the table beside the couch and lying on her back, reading the book intently before drifting off and finally falling asleep with it open upon her chest.

She woke up to the sound of a door clicking shut and footsteps against the slate tiles, turned onto her side and heard the book that had lain on her close with a loud thump.

"Interesting book?" drawled Snape, watching her sit up and turn red from embarrassment. She handed it to him, unable to say anything, and he took it from her, placing it on the table from where her lunch had disappeared. He stood near the edge of the couch and pressed the back of his hand to her forehead. "You are not as warm as yesterday. Has your condition improved?" he asked, his black eyes boring into hers.

"A little," she answered truthfully.

"Are you hungry?"

"A little," she repeated, still at awe that he was standing so close to her.

He reached within the cloak he wore and pulled out a small brown bottle. "Drink this. It will make the fever subside." He watched her as she followed his instructions, lowering the bottle and handing it back when she finished. A cooling sensation went through her and she pulled the cape and blanket towards her to cover her upper body as she shivered. "I had Miss Weasley gather some of your things so that you would be able to sleep in something other than a school outfit tonight. Your bags are right outside the lavatory, when you need them." He gazed into the fire which had been blazing all day.

"Professor?" asked Hermione, to gain his attention. When he turned around to look at her she said, a little awkwardly, "Thank you for taking care of me. I'm really… sorry about what I did, with the Pensieve. I shouldn't have looked at it, and-"

He held up his hand to silence her and said, "You may feel guilty, but you must learn to understand the importance of privacy, Miss Granger. You cannot take the liberty of diving into any Pensieve readily available at your own leisure." His words ended with a bitter tone, but he began again with less hostility, stepping away from the fireplace and reaching for the book she had borrowed which lay on the table. "However, I was slightly… out of line, for yelling," he said, placing the book back in its place on the shelves. She frowned; it wasn't like him to apologize.

Snape took out his wand, waving it towards the back of the room. A pile of papers shuffled themselves and flew through the air slowly, before coming to a rest on Hermione's lap. "Miss Weasley also gathered your work from your professors, so that you would not fall behind in your studies." He also summoned parchment, a quill, and an ink well from a drawer in the back of the room. He moved the small table near her closer so that she could lay the well upon it.

Hermione left for the lavatory and changed into her red nightdress before she got to work, scratching the quill against the paper. Snape could see that she was nearly well again, breaking only once or twice to close her eyes and rest. He sat down in his armchair, a book in his lap, and Hermione wished that her back was not to him - not because she didn't trust him, but instead because she felt it unfair that he could study her and she couldn't steal a glance at him. _Not that he would be watching me_, she thought. After an hour, Hermione heard the pop of a house-elf appearing, and before she could turn her head to look it had Disapparated and was gone. Snape, instead, was standing next to the couch, two dinner plates in his hands.

"Dinner," he told her, curtly.

"But I thought you had to eat dinner in the Great Hall."

"If you would rather eat alone, you need only say-"

"No!" she exclaimed, cutting him off and then blushing because she had been a little too forceful with her objection. "I mean, it's kind of you… I hadn't expected…."

"I assume you are well enough to sit at the table?" She nodded and stood up, feeling less dizzy than before, and followed him towards the back of the room. He sat down at one end of the table and conjured a matching wooden chair for her at the other, levitating her plate so that it would travel the four feet between them and setting it down directly in front of her.

Hermione started eating her stew, the silence heavy between them. She watched Snape as he sipped the broth quietly and pulled his roll of bread into little pieces, avoiding her gaze as he stared into his bowl. She looked down into her own, feeling awkward and wondering why he would ask her to dine with him if he wouldn't speak to her.

After finishing her dinner she broke the silence with a question that had been on her mind ever since she had gone into the Pensieve. "Professor, if I may ask…. Your mother, is she still alive?"

He looked at her coldly, paused, and nodded curtly. "Yes, Miss Granger, she is."

Something that had been frozen inside her melted. She was alive! Snape's own mother, the only person who loved him when he was little, the one who had given him everything she owned, was alive! "Where is she? Is she-"

"Miss Granger, you cannot wander into my memories unwelcome and then demand that I elaborate any further." A feeling of sadness welled up within her and she sighed, watching as Snape folded his napkin and laid it on the table. "However, if you would like to know, we need only to look into my Pensieve for an accurate account. But first," he said, smirking a little, "I think it is only fair to procure some of your memories, which we could in turn experience together. There are several I would be… interested in viewing."

Hermione didn't like the idea of sharing any of her past with Snape - there were some things better left forgotten. She was surprised that he would suggest it, but then she realized the lesson he was teaching her, for she had broken into his memories without as much as a forewarning. "It is only fair. And then?" she asked, leaning forward.

After careful consideration, he replied, "I will share whatever you wish of my own past."

"Until?"

"Until both of us have quenched our thirst."

"Is _that_ why you're taking care of me?" she accused, indignantly. "To secure a memory?"

"No. I owe you my life, Miss Granger, but you also owe me the memory."

"_The_ memory?" she inquired. "What do you mean?"

"You know perfectly well. Now, when you have finished eating…." She nodded to let him know that she was done and stood up as he motioned towards the door. "I would advise wearing your cloak." Hermione left to retrieve it and came back, following Snape out into the cold dungeon passageway, around a few corners, and into his office. He pulled the Pensieve out of the cupboard and placed it on the table in front of them. The surface was still, and the liquid, if it could be called that, was black.

"Your memory, Miss Granger." He stood over her, his features dark and emotionless, watching as she pulled her wand out of a small thin pocket on the nightdress and touched the tip to her head, extracting a wisp of a glowing thread-like substance and transferring it into the Pensieve. They watched together as the surface churned and became a bright blue. They leaned down at the same time, their faces touching the cool liquid and their feet suddenly going out beneath them, landing softly on the dusty, rotten floorboards of the Shrieking Shack.


	4. The Desired Memory

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR.

* * *

Snape and Hermione stood together in a corner by a boarded window, watching as a pale, bald man in dark robes stirred to their left. Hermione shook as she realized that it was Lord Voldemort, standing so close to her that she could make out the lines in his face and the blood red of his eyes. She looked up at Snape, who stood beside her, and though he showed no fear she knew that he had never wanted to live through this moment again. He was watching the Snape which stood directly in front of him tremble with fear as Nagini floated through the air, ready to strike.

"_Kill_," hissed Lord Voldemort, and Hermione looked away as she heard Snape's awful sputtering, a sound that told her Nagini had struck successfully and torn through his throat with her fangs. She heard the snapping of wood underneath Snape's body, the loud thump as he hit the ground, and she shivered as Lord Voldemort passed right by her and out the doorway, compassionless and cruel, his wand held tightly between his slender fingertips.

She turned back towards the Snape which lay on the floor and watched as blood poured out of him, his fingers trying to hold the tissue of his neck together, gasping for breath and making horrifying gurgling noises as he couldn't summon any air. Hermione could barely watch, her eyes watering from sadness and fear.

Harry appeared from his hiding spot, despite the hidden Hermione's attempts to stop him. As he leaned down near the wounded man, Snape clutched the collar of his shirt and placed his memories within the vial Hermione, who had appeared, had quickly conjured. As Snape let go, Harry turned to leave. Hermione, although visibly panicked and unable to think from fear, exclaimed, "Harry, we can't just leave him! We have to do something!"

"Hermione-"

"He's a _professor_. Lord Vol… Voldemort only wanted him dead to control the Elder Wand, but…." She paused, her mind running with thoughts as she came to an alarming conclusion. "Voldemort wasn't smart enough to realize-"

"He's a traitor! He murdered Dumbledore! How could I feel anything more than pity for him?" he exclaimed. Ron had appeared as well, standing behind Hermione, his face white from the gore of the scene and unable to speak.

"Harry, _listen to me! _Can't you see? Dumbledore had the Elder Wand, and in the Astronomy Tower… its powers were transferred to Draco's wand, which is yours now! You don't need to master the wand; you just need to master the owner! Voldemort was right, in a way… but wrong about who had mastered it. Snape is probably going to die, and for no reason at all!" She turned back towards the man on the floor, intent on finding a way to save him. Hermione, standing against the wall next to Snape as she viewed her memory, recalled the desperation of that moment. "The Elder Wand… _a wand to conquer Death,_" she whispered to herself."Harry, your wand… hand it to me!" she gasped, her hands shaking uncontrollably. "_Vulnera Sanentur_" she whispered, laying the edge of the wand onto Snape's destroyed neck and throat. He was unconscious, almost dead and barely able to breathe. "_Vulnera Sanentur_…." Her hand was shaking harder; the wound was healing, but not fast enough, and she didn't know whether the venom would be removed. Another minute, he would surely die…. "Ron, send a Patronus for help…. Anything!"

He was barely able to manage it, but he sent a silver barking dog zooming down the stairs and out of the Shrieking Shack before sitting down and putting his head in his hands. Hermione remembered - Fred had only just been murdered. Everyone's head snapped up as a high pitched voice came in from all directions, daring Harry to meet Lord Voldemort in the forbidden forest before midnight. Hermione watched as they looked from one to the other, and then back to Snape, who was motionless.

"Hermione, he's gone," Harry said, angrily, as though she was wasting his time.

She placed her hand upon Snape's chest and felt for a heartbeat. It was faint, but present. "Not yet," she retorted, "but you should go. He gave you those memories for a reason, Harry. You only have so much time, and they might help-"

"What could _he_ have to show me?" he asked, turning on her, his hands fisted and his voice full of spite. Hermione remembered trying to understand how he felt. He hadn't slept in days, he was hurt, the friends he had known and loved for years were laying down their lives for him, and all he wanted was for it to end. He was enraged not with Hermione, or with Snape, but with the battle and Voldemort.

"I don't know, but if it was the last thing he was to do, then… then I would think that it was important you go and-" A piercing cry rang out, Hermione's heart pounding in fear as a mass of gold and red broke through a boarded window, swooped into the room, and landed at her side. "Fawkes!" she exclaimed, in recognition of the Phoenix. The creature quickly bent its head, tears flowing from its eyes and falling onto Snape's skin, trailing down his neck and into his mouth, the wound shrinking and the flesh connecting back into a semblance of what it had been. When Snape took a ragged, deep breath, Hermione gave a cry of surprise. "Thank you!" she cried to the Phoenix, wrapping her arms around his neck and stroking his feathers. The bird, in return, nuzzled Hermione's cheek with his beak. She looked up and said, "Harry, go and take Ron back to the castle. I'll see if I can get Snape back, but what is most important is that you get back safe. There should be a Pensieve in… in the Headmaster's office. Go, now."

He nodded, a look of resolution on his face and his hand clutched around the small vial, not seeming as though he cared whether or not Snape had survived and focused only upon what he had to do. He took the wand from Hermione, pulled a despondent Ron to his feet, and left without another word. She turned back to Snape, looking at his ghastly pale face, and placed her hand against his throat, carefully. It was warm, as a wound was when fighting infection, and soft as though the skin were new. She felt his cheek, the skin creased and cold, and then reached towards his curtain of hair which was splayed across the floor, expecting it to be greasy and slick. However, as she ran her fingers through it, she realized it was shiny and limp, and it fell from her hands as smooth as water would. The Hermione which stood next to Snape blushed at the liberty she took with him, how far her imprudent curiosity had taken her.

The Snape on the ground gave a small groan, his head turning towards her and his eyes opening for an instant before shutting again. She quickly pulled her hand away and exclaimed, "Professor! What… what should I do?"

"Apparate, into Hogwarts," he rasped, his bloodied hand reaching back up towards his neck as though he couldn't believe it had healed.

"But sir, you can't Apparate into Hogwarts," she said, insistently. "I can try-"

"The Anti-Apparition Jinx… has been lifted."

Understanding dawned over her. "Where?"

"Dungeons," he responded, quickly, his deep voice wavering but gaining strength as well. One last time Hermione stroked Fawkes, who had sat silently by her side the whole time. She concentrated, and the room swirled around the four who had been in it and both pairs of Hermione and Snape found themselves in the area of the dungeons which lead to the main staircase up to the entrance hall. The halls above were silent, for the fighting had stopped a while ago. There was no one in sight where they were; it was eerily deserted.

"Help me up," Snape demanded. She took his arm and put it around her neck, pulling him up with difficulty. He was not as slender a man as he had been, and he had always been much taller than her. He staggered before finding his feet and then led her through the warren of thin, damp passageways that made up the depths of the school. Snape stopped at an unmarked door and opened it, showing her a small living area and pointing towards a room through another doorway at their far left, past a couch and fireplace. "In there," he told her, and she supported him as they walked into his small bedroom.

His bed was to their left and she sat him down on it, helping him out of his bloodied cape and folding it, laying it on a small dresser. Snape seemed naked without the extra folds of fabric, but was so tired he didn't seem to notice. "Water," he ordered, not looking at Hermione but instead swaying where he sat, his hands at his side.

"_Vasensortia_," she said, conjuring a glass and then filling it with water by whispering, "_Aguamenti._"

She shook wildly, but managed to push it into his hands. She heard him groan, "My robes…." He trailed off, and Hermione could see that there was blood all down his front. She bent closer, one knee on his bed and her other leg supporting her, and, with great hesitation, began unbuttoning them. She helped him out of the first layer of black robes and then unbuttoned his white collared shirt, pulling it away from his chest and setting it aside. She conjured a towel, wet it with water from her wand, and wiped away the blood that had dripped down his chest, neck, to his ears, and on his back. He was nearly unconscious of what she was doing, focused only on drinking the water, his eyes closed.

"Professor… Professor, you should lay down," she said, extremely worried about the fact that he hadn't moved except for his hands shaking as he held the cup. The exertion of walking through the dungeons had caused all his energy to wane. She took it from him, for it was now empty, and set it on the dresser. Hermione paused, not wanting to overstep any boundaries but finding her hands on his shoulders, his skin cold and clammy, as she pushed him down against the pillow, took off his shoes, and placed the black sheets and comforter over him.

The occasional booms and shaking from the ongoing battle had stopped, and Hermione wondered what was going on. She realized the hour must be close to over; where was Harry? He always knew what to do, in the end, but despite all of the months that had come before this, they had rarely spoken of the final meeting, what the end would be like. She hadn't thought that she would be here, sitting at a deathly ill Severus Snape's bedside, as who knows what was going on above her head.

His face was so white, and she checked his pulse by softly pressing her fingers against his neck. He didn't push her away, but instead allowed her to examine him, although she didn't know whether it was conscious or not. His pulse was so weak, it was a wonder his heart was still beating. Hermione realized, suddenly, that she was not too far away from the school's store of potions. Surely, there would be something there for her to use.

She dashed out of his bedroom and out into the hallway, making sure she knew where she was so that she would be able to make it back without losing her way. The Hermione and Snape who were only visiting the memory trailed behind, following her. Hermione opened the Potions classroom door, which had remained unlocked, and ran to the back where there were many vials of various solutions all labeled and neatly arranged. Blood-Replenishing Potion, the one she was looking for, was easy enough to find. There were several containers of it among the dusty shelves. She didn't really know how much she would need, so she took three for good measure. She also grabbed some Sleeping Draught as well as a Soothing Solution to stop the pain.

Hermione quickly made her way back, followed again by the visitors, and deposited all of the vials onto Snape's bed by his side, uncorking the Blood-Replenishing Potions one by one and pouring them down his throat. When she was finished, his head turned from side to side, as though shaking away a fly, before he opened his eyes and looked at her, almost incredulously.

"Miss Granger, what do you think you're doing?" he asked, weakly, coughing, slurring his words and looking around, still noticeably confused. He saw the small glass bottles, some corked and others drained of their contents, and accused, "You've been stealing from my stores." In a way, he seemed delirious, but in another, it seemed like his personality was coming back. Hermione's eyes were filled with tears, almost in disbelief. Her blind attempt to save him would work, and he would live!

"I wouldn't have done it unless… unless it was necessary." She wiped her eyes on the sleeves of her shirt, now freely crying. She had been in a constant state of anxiety the whole night and couldn't remember the last time she slept. It had seemed like a lifetime had passed her by. But now, finally, something had gone right; there was some hope in the world. He looked uncomfortable at seeing her sob and turned his head away from her. Hermione turned her attention back to him and leaned over, picking up one of the potions and uncorking it. "Now, you need to take this, sir," she directed, placing a small vial of Sleeping Draught to his lips and watching the purple liquid disappear. He fell asleep instantly, his eyes sunken with dark bags underneath them, even though his face was relaxed and at peace.

She wrung her hands, unsure of what to do. It felt selfish, to stay down here, safe and sound, when the battle would soon recommence above her and so many would fight to the death. If only there was some way of seeing what was happening…. She looked up in surprise as a loud roar of cheers burst from the hall above, knowing at once that it had ended, Harry had won…. She collapsed on the hard stone floor, in tears, sobbing louder than she ever had in her life. It had worked! After all her years of helping Harry fight, there had finally been an end. Finally, finally they had the freedom to live!

The walls of the small bedroom and the sound of Hermione's sobs were fading away, the room reappearing again as time had passed, Madam Pomfrey now standing with Hermione at Severus's side.

"You did a fair job, dear, at taking care of him, considering the circumstances. If I were you, I would think about nursing as a profession."

Hermione smiled weakly; she enjoyed the compliment but had no interest in a career of odd hours and constant anxiety. "When will we be moving him up to the hospital wing?" she asked.

"Oh, we couldn't do that. He's simply not strong enough to move, and the beds are full as it is. Even though we've brought in Healers from St. Mungo's, we barely have enough staff to care for everyone. We couldn't possibly bring in any more patients. He's going to have to be cared for here."

"But… who will…." Her eyes took in the pale figure of Severus Snape asleep, lying on his back in bed. She had wanted to wash her hands of him as soon as she could. It was trying work, to question every time she searched for his pulse whether it would be there or not, and whether she was giving him the right medication instead of a potion that might hurt him. Considering that she had been able to restore some of his health without any background in nursing was impressive, but she didn't think she had the natural knack of knowing how to respond to a patient's needs to bring him back to full health. Even more displeasing was that her patient was Snape. He was a cruel, wicked man with a penchant for ridiculing the weak, and besides the initial wish to save him Hermione had no desire to take care of such a person.

"I'm sure you will do a fine job; I have full confidence in your skills. I can send down some books from the library, to instruct you on how to better treat him, but I am certain that if you follow through with your current treatments he'll recover quickly enough."

Hermione paused before nodding and then said, with much hesitation, "Madam Pomfrey, I… I need to speak to Professor McGonagall. Do you know where she is?" The nurse paused, but before she could answer the room changed and the next scene laid before them was within the Headmaster's Office, which was now occupied by McGonagall.

"Miss Granger, I understand the sacrifices you had to make to be able to help Mr. Potter last year," she began, staring at her through her rectangular glasses. "Readmitting you to the school would be a special circumstance. We've had several students skip their last year, but never did they return with the interest of continuing their education. However, you are an exceptionally talented witch, and your bravery concerning the destruction of Voldemort is well known. I would be happy to grant you a certificate of completion of schooling at Hogwarts, based on the acts of courage you undertook that were far beyond what is teachable."

Hermione turned red and replied, "Thank you, Professor, but I would much rather come back to Hogwarts for my seventh year and take my N.E.W.T.s. I don't have the first idea as to what I want to do, and another year here would be best, for me. And… I have something else I need to talk about."

"Your living situation?" guessed McGonagall. Hermione nodded her head, and the Headmistress asked, "Would the Weasleys be able to take you in, for the summer?"

Hermione looked down and then responded, "I'm not exactly sure. I wouldn't want to impose, especially because of Fred. I'm sure they're still in mourning; it wouldn't be a proper time for a visitor."

After a long silence, McGonagall said, "If need be, you can live at Hogwarts over the summer. It would be the least we could do for you, especially because you are taking care of our… incapacitated Potions master," she said, almost bitterly. "Although the dungeons are rather dreary, it would be best if you boarded down there, for the time being. I'll make sure Madam Pomfrey keeps you stocked with the appropriate potions. I appreciate what you are doing for Professor Snape, Hermione, but be wary; even _I_ don't know what business he had with Dumbledore, or, for that matter, with Voldemort."

Hermione's memory shifted and they were back in the dungeons again. Snape was asleep in his bed and Hermione sat at his side, applying a poultice underneath his neck to reduce the swelling the healed wounds had become. Her fingers delicately traced the length of his neck, his chin, around his ear and above his forehead. The Hermione which stood next to Snape blushed deeply, embarrassed of her blatant affection. But how could anyone take care of a patient for so long and not feel some sort of fondness for them?

The Hermione that watched retraced her thoughts. Sitting there and taking care of Snape was the first time she had realized how similar they were. Locked in their rooms with little time for friends, studious and intelligent but also stubborn and driven, they were nearly the same person. Why had she been so blinded by her hatred for him to realize it? Harry had always been the most adamantly opposed to Snape, but then Snape had always been especially cruel to him; it was only natural. Her fingers glided over the furrows in his forehead, and then the steep slope of his nose, all the while her heart beating wildly, not wanting him to wake up but at the same time wishing that she could shake him and make him realize it too.

Time passed, and Snape was sitting up in bed, his arms folded and a scowl on his face. Hermione held a smoking goblet in her hands, tilting it towards his mouth, but he was noticeably furious.

"I will _not_ be nursed like a baby!" he spat, reaching for the cup.

"You will be if you keep acting like one!" she retorted, before quickly adding, "Professor," so as not to lose all semblance of respect for him. He turned red from anger. "It took me a long time to make, and I don't want you spilling it."

"Wonderful," he said to himself, sarcastically, leaning back into the pillows. "I'm drinking a complicated potion brewed by an inexperienced student who thinks she knows what is best for me." She waited patiently before he finally drank the potion without complaint, his arms still folded.

The entrance hall flashed before them, and Hermione and Snape watched as Harry ran towards the Hermione which stood by the large wooden doors, hugging her briefly before pulling away.

"These past few weeks have been crazy, haven't they?" he asked, a smile splayed across his face.

She shrugged, although she wore a grin as well. "It hasn't hit me yet, that it's all over, and besides, I haven't had much time to celebrate. Madam Pomfrey expected me to stay and take care of Snape, so I have."

Harry frowned, but then put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione… Snape's memories…. You were right, they were important. They explained everything. I don't know if I'll ever forgive him for what he's put me through, all these years, but… Snape was Dumbledore's man, even more than I was," he explained. "He did everything for him, without question. I think… I think it was his loyalty to Dumbledore that called Fawkes to him, in the Shrieking Shack, like Fawkes was called to me in the Chamber. I wish I could tell you everything, but…" his words caught in his throat. "I don't think he would like that very much. But you have to trust me; I don't know how I didn't see it before. He was helping us, me, all this time…."

Hermione and Harry dissolved into blackness, only to be replaced again by Snape's chambers. This time, the Potions master was well and standing up over his armchair, cloaked in his usual outfit and appearing to be in excellent health, except for the red gashes which ran underneath his throat as a reminder of what had happened. Hermione stood in front of him, her arms folded and an angry expression on her face.

"You can see that I'm better, Miss Granger. I don't understand why you feel the need to check on me every day, unless…" he smirked, looking down at her, "you have no one else to bother?"

"I'm just… lonely," she explained, wanting to die from embarrassment. It was halfway through August and she was rather bored of spending all day reading in her bedroom and only leaving to visit the library for new books. Madam Pince seemed annoyed at the extensive amount of novels she checked in and out, believing that Hermione was bound to lose one at some point.

"What did you think would happen; we would become _friends_?" he taunted, sneering at the idea.

He had struck such a blow to her that she paused for a while, as though disbelieving what she heard. "I thought you would at least be kind to someone who had not only saved your life, but who had also spent her whole summer with you to make sure you were well. You're so selfish… you don't care about anyone but yourself!" she exclaimed, wanting him to feel as hurt as she was. How dare he ridicule her, after all the hours she had spent trying to heal him…. She stormed out of the room, and the memory faded into blackness.

"Miss Granger, are we finished here?" asked Snape, his arm already underneath her elbow. She nodded and he pulled them out of the Pensieve, both recovering from the vertigo as they stood over the stone basin. Hermione shivered, pulling her cloak tightly around her. Snape had been right; the temperature of the dungeons plummeted around freezing at night during the winter.

He looked down at her and saw that she was rather tired and light-headed, and said, "I told McGonagall that you would leave when you felt well, which you don't. Let us return."

He turned to leave, Hermione's voice cutting the silence. "But Professor, you promised you would show me some of your memories, in return for mine."

Snape looked at her again, his face cast in the blue light from the Pensieve. "You've already seen quite a few of them, when you didn't have my permission. Have you already forgotten?" Her face turned to stone as she was filled with anger. He tricked her, and even so, it was to be expected. Why had she thought she could trust him? She looked down at the black floor, before hearing his voice again. "Tomorrow, we can continue, but we must make it fair; only one memory at a time."

She nodded, eager and slightly elated although very tired. In a few moments she was on his couch again, a pillow under her head and a thick blanket he around her. Hermione stared at the fire, wondering what Snape's thoughts were about her own memories, upset that they had ended on such an unhappy note. Maybe he would feel guilty, or even angry, but at least he knew what had happened between them… and sometimes everything could change if the past was seen through someone else's eyes.


	5. More to His Story

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR.

* * *

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night, the room silent except for the crackle of the fire. She stood up, drowsy and uncoordinated, needing to use the lavatory. She walked up to the doorframe between the living room and Snape's bedroom, listening for any movement. His breathing was even and soft, and she scurried past his bed and closed the door behind her softly so as not to wake him. She had used his bathroom enough when taking care of him that she knew her way around by touch and therefore was not hindered from the lack of light.

When she was finished she stepped softly through his room, casting a glance in his direction although unable to see very much. Instead of getting back into bed, Hermione sat down right outside of his bedroom, against the wall. She pulled her knees up to her chest, laid her head on top of them, and began to cry. She thought of Snape, sleeping in his bed, and her heart sank further. She had ruined any chance of ever becoming close to him, and this would probably be the last night she could stay and be within reason of asking him to care for her, even though he had been the one to volunteer the services. Ever since she had saved him, she had seen him as a different person, someone with vulnerabilities and weaknesses rather than the untouchable and cold Potions master he had always been to her. Harry refused to tell her anything about Snape's memories, and it had made her curious about what they held. What could have redeemed Snape in Harry's eyes? What could Snape have possibly owed Dumbledore to have been his spy, all these years? It must have been something powerful; Snape would bend his will to no one else's unless considerably forced, and she could see that.

Hermione's tears welled up even more as she thought about the hopelessness of her situation. For the longest time, she had told herself that she cared for him only because she had saved him, and to save someone from death would create a bond that was not easily broken. He was in her debt, whether he wanted to be or not, and she knew it. However, her desire to watch his gestures, to listen to him speak, to discuss things with him like she was his equal, lasted far longer than the time it took for him to get well, beyond when classes had commenced, and then all fall and winter. To catch a glimpse of him in the halls was a treat, and, in between exchanging words with Ginny over dinner, she would pay attention to Snape during the few appearances he made to the Great Hall. Hermione always looked forward to his class as well, despite the inherent failed potion which would give him the excuse to mock her. She hated him belittling her more than anything, and so she tried her hardest to not let him find any fault. However, he never paid her more attention than anyone else. No one could have guessed that they had spent nearly the whole summer in each other's company.

His reputation was worse than usual among the students of Hogwarts. Now that the battle was over and there were no more sides to choose, all known Death Eaters had been put on trial and sent to Azkaban, except him. No one really knew why, but Harry had petitioned for him to be cleared of all charges, and so he was. Snape was not forgiven by the students for his short reign as Headmaster and the terrible things that had happened during that time, but they were all at least somewhat content to see him retire to his post of Potions master and Head of Slytherin House where he could do no more than give the occasional detention and assign horribly long papers.

Hermione sniffled a little, her heart aching. The truth was that she had fallen deeply in love with someone she could never even consider having feelings for. She couldn't tell him how she felt; she wasn't brave enough to do it anyway. And so, because of her cowardice, nothing would change, and she hated herself for it.

She sniffed again before turning her head and realizing that Snape was standing above her, silhouetted by the fire, his arms folded.

"Miss Granger, what, may I ask, are you sniveling about on my floor at three o'clock in the morning?" He sounded tired, but he was also a little peeved and genuinely confused.

"Professor! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake-"

"I could not sleep," he said firmly. She stood up, tottering and brushing away her tears while looking up at him, although his face was shadowed. "You still have not answered my question."

"I… I don't know," she stuttered, unable to think of a good reason.

"You don't know?" he mocked. "I thought you were a clever girl."

"Clever does not mean smart in all senses of the word, sir," she said, angrily.

He paused, standing incredibly still, before walking past her and illuminating the room by pulling down the chain of a lamp set into a sconce on the wall. "Tea?" he asked, his back turned, rummaging through his cabinets and pulling out a small kettle. She didn't answer but he wasn't listening anyway, now filling it with water and turning on the stove. She realized that he was dressed in a long grey nightshirt which ended above his knees, and she nearly stumbled on her way back to sit down on the couch. Even as his nurse she had barely seen any part of him that wasn't exposed daily in the classroom, he had made sure of that, and now she could see below his knees and a little bit of his thighs. It was difficult not to stare as he sat down in his armchair and looked over at her as though it were the most natural thing in the world. _I _have _to be dreaming, _she told herself, rubbing her eyes and looking back. His hair was tousled and wavy, his eyes sunken and heavy. He had obviously not gotten any sleep at all.

"Miss Granger," he said, quietly, "what were you crying about?"

She couldn't tell him; she would simply have to lie. "Sir… sir…" she choked out, unable to think of anything to say, almost pleading with him to stop. She pulled the blanket up around her, turning towards him but leaning against the back of the couch.

He looked away, sighed, and leaned back into his chair, now facing the fire. "We are hardly strangers, Miss Granger. I assumed we were within each other's confidences by now."

Hermione was convinced that she was dreaming. It was impossible that she was sitting on a half-naked Snape's couch at three o'clock in the morning as he fixed her tea and implored about her feelings. The kettle whistled and Snape pulled his wand out from his nightshirt, pouring the tea into two teacups and summoning them towards himself and his guest. Hermione plucked the cup from mid-air, sipping and finding the tea rather sweet. She used the time Snape spent drinking to steal a glimpse at his feet, the fine black hair on his legs, the sturdiness of his calves and the surprising thickness of his thighs. She had suspected him to be leaner, for he always looked very thin in all black. He was skinny, just not all skin and bones as she had thought.

He looked back over at her, surveying her once more, before asking, "Will you be attending classes tomorrow?" She nodded, and he said, "I'll be sure to wake you, then. But you must stop by afterwards; we have a deal." She nodded again, feeling a sense of satisfaction filling her even though she didn't really know which memories of hers would be of any interest to him. They sat for a long time in silence before Snape stood up and stretched his neck a little, Hermione glancing up at the scar tissue as he swiveled his head. He looked down at her and said, "Attempt not to burst into tears this time, Miss Granger. I need my sleep, as do you." He left, turning out the light behind him, and Hermione sank down against her pillow. She didn't think that she could ever even begin to understand Severus Snape.

.

.

.

A rough hand on Hermione's shoulder woke her from a deep sleep early in the morning. She turned over and sat straight up, her eyes heavy from exhaustion. They focused on Snape, now properly clad in his usual black ensemble. "Wake up," he said gruffly. Obviously, he was not a morning person. "You can take a shower, if you like. It's only six thirty."

She groaned, not wanting to leave the warm blanket which cradled her, and unwillingly stood up, folded the blanket and left to take a shower. His lavatory was small but neat and the water in the shower was hot, which she enjoyed greatly. She put on a set of her school robes which had been neatly laundered and pressed, straightening her shirt and tie so that she looked respectable before sitting down in front of the fire to dry her hair. Snape had made another pot of tea, which he drank from at his table. He offered her some which she took happily, although she noticed that the tea changed color as it was poured into the cup.

Noting her interest, Snape explained, "It's a kettle which will make the sort of tea most agreeable to the intended drinker."

She sipped and nodded, for it was true that she had wanted a strong tea to wake her up, and that was exactly what had come out of the teapot. "It must have been expensive."

He shrugged, saying, "Not if it was inherited."

"But… it would have had to come from your mother's side."

She expected him to be angry with her for bringing it up, but he wasn't. "And? My mother was not disinherited when she married my father. They gave her family tokens when she left. In any case, my father drank coffee, and even so he was probably too thick to notice an enchanted teapot even if it did sit on the stove in front of him for nearly twenty years." His voice was full of spite, but Hermione had no reason to wonder why.

"Professor, if I may ask… how did you receive your mother's memories? I mean, when she was young, from before you were born…."

He sipped his tea before answering, simply, "She gave them to me."

Hermione bit her lip before saying, impudently, "Why won't you just tell me where she is now?"

He stared at her, and she detected a bit of anger even though he didn't show it. "There are several reasons, but most importantly, in order to understand the present it requires more knowledge of the past. Some things must be delved into rather than skimmed through on the surface." He stopped, and then said a little more forcefully, "Because, Miss Granger, some things require you to have a little more knowledge, a little more _patience, _to be able to understand their full meaning." Lowering his voice, he continued, "If you wish, I believe we have time for another memory or two before classes commence."

She nodded, wondering why he would reprimand her and then go on to give her exactly what she wanted. Hermione waited until he was finished with his tea before standing up with him to walk to his office. Again, they stood together, pressed their faces against the surface, and dove into the memory.

Hermione watched as the Slytherin boy's dormitory appeared in front of her, the dark green curtains hanging down from a black ceiling and grey stone walls, elegantly framing a bed of dark wood. A younger, scrawny Severus Snape, who had to be at least in his fifth year of schooling, sat on the edge of the bed, a picture of him and a girl with red hair smiling shyly at each other and then back at the camera as they sat underneath a grove of trees cradled in his hands. Hermione knew it was Lily, and felt a sudden pang of jealousy and concern. Surely, it was only a childhood crush….

Suddenly, a tall blond-haired adolescent sprang up behind him and tackled him to the floor. "Avery, stop it!" Snape bellowed, clutching the photograph to his chest and struggling underneath the boy, who was much stronger than him. Avery wrenched the picture from him and jumped back up on the bed as Snape fumed. "Give it back, now!" he ordered, with such authority and anger that Hermione was a little frightened. However, Avery only smirked at him, pushing Snape down against the floor as he attempted to retrieve the paper. Hermione watched in disbelief that two older teenagers could act like children towards each other.

"Is it your _girlfriend _again, Snape? You know she's only a dirty Mudblood," he said, acting as though the word gave a bad taste to his mouth.

"Don't say that!" he yelled, his anger and sadness apparent.

"She's not worth you, and you know it." Hermione could see the manic look in Avery's eyes; it was no surprise he could become a Death Eater if he could torture his fellow Slytherin like he was. Snape's eyes grew large as Avery took the edges of the picture and ripped it in half, and then in half again.

"No!" he howled, lunging at the blond boy and missing, for Avery was too quick and ran past him, throwing the shreds into the fireplace and watching as Snape slumped to the ground, completely distraught and beside himself with anger.

Avery sat down on the floor next to him, almost joyous with the pain he had inflicted. "Don't worry, Snape. You have to get over it; she loves Potter, and there's nothing you can do about it. Besides, there are other plans for you." Snape didn't even look at him, his head buried in his hands as he sat motionless; Hermione expected him to burst into tears at any moment. "Remember Lucius Malfoy?" Avery went on, now completely oblivious to Snape's suffering. "He graduated when we were first years, but he was Head Boy so you _should_ remember him. Anyway, he's about 21 now, and he has friends in high places. He told me himself, there's this man who calls himself Lord Voldemort. He has a following, a group of people called Death Eaters, and they do his bidding. He seeks power, and promises it to those who follow him. Could you think of anything greater?"

Snape was, by this time, paying close attention to Avery. "What do these Death Eaters do?" he asked, still miserable.

"Whatever he asks," explained Avery, nonchalantly, pleased that he had piqued his interest. "What he wants to do is finish Slytherin's work. He's a dark wizard, and thinks magic should only be practiced by purebloods."

"_I'm _not even a pureblood."

"Some say he isn't either," replied Avery. "But as long as you're interested…. Snape, face it. Your favorite subject is the Dark Arts, and Lucius says we would learn everything we need to from this man. Voldemort's supposed to be brilliant, and I think he's exactly the one to strike a deal with now. He's starting a revolution in magic… and we want to be on the winning side, don't we?" Hermione frowned at his malicious smile, wanting the younger Snape to tell him that he was wrong, but she could tell that he was already considering it even though only five minutes ago Avery had destroyed his beloved photograph. One of Snape's biggest faults, she could tell, had been that he was easily bullied into changing his opinion.

Both young men faded from her view and in their place appeared a circle of cloaked men in the clearing of a wood, the fog of night swirling around their feet. In the center stood a thin man with features that were sharp but elegant, a hooded cloak casting the rest of his body into obscurity.

"We have an initiation ceremony tonight," he breathed, his voice deep and soft, but also very cold. "It is not often that we have the chance to add another member to our number, so this is truly a cause for celebration. Severus," he said, beckoning forth one of the cloaked men with the slightest curl of his fingers. One of the figures stepped forward, lowering his hood to reveal a length of smooth black hair and kneeling down at Lord Voldemort's feet.

"My Lord," he acknowledged, his voice a pitch higher than normal but unwavering.

It seemed as though Voldemort could sense his fear, for he asked, "Any apprehensions, Severus?"

Snape shook his head. "No, my Lord." He was a little older than before, probably by a few years; but he was still rather young, quite possibly Hermione's age.

"You are well aware that you are pledging your life to your duty. You shall answer to no other master but me."

"It is how it should be, my Lord," he responded, his head still bent towards the ground in respect.

"And so it shall be, Severus. Your arm," he ordered. Snape pulled up the sleeve of his left forearm, exposing the white skin which lay underneath. Voldemort's thin hand gripped Snape's left wrist as he placed the tip of his wand to the skin. Suddenly, a trail of blackness issued from the wand, burrowing into the skin, and Snape cried out in agony. Hermione gasped and stepped backwards in fright, her shoulder hitting Snape's. He placed his left arm around her as she looked away, unable to watch him being tortured any longer. After the longest time imaginable had passed, the cries stopped and she turned back towards the group of men, still safely tucked against Snape. He was doubled over on the ground, clutching his arm and cradling it, and as he swayed and fell unconscious the scene changed again.

He was sitting at a wooden kitchen table in a cramped apartment, a light bulb hanging from the ceiling above. Next to him was his mother, looking weathered and unhappy, dressed in a long faded blue gown.

"She was released from St. Mungo's?" asked Hermione, incredulously.

"Azkaban," he corrected, removing his arm from around her and circling the table for a better view. She followed him as well, watching the two people at the table intently. The younger Snape held a reddened washrag to his forearm, too ashamed to look at his mother. He removed it to inspect the wound again and Hermione had to avert her gaze. It looked as though someone had cut his arm with a knife, the edges discolored and black.

Eileen shook her head, tears in her eyes. "Severus… why?" Her voice cracked and tears welled up in her already red eyes. She looked as though she had been crying for a while.

Severus looked even more pitiful than she did. "I thought… I thought it was the right thing to do. I thought it was the only thing to do." He put his right elbow on the table and his head in his right palm, looking as though he too would burst into tears.

"Severus, there's always a choice, whether you see it or not," she cried desperately. She got up, placed her chair next to him, and then pulled him close. Even though he was a grown man, he laid his head against his mother's shoulder in compliance. The room faded away, and Hermione was shocked as she saw Snape at Dumbledore's feet in his office.

"Please… you're the only one who can stop him," he pleaded with the elderly Headmaster.

"You ask for too much, Severus, considering what you have done. By revealing the details of the prophecy to Voldemort, you've cast the lives of the Potters into extreme danger. It will be no one's fault but your own if tragedy befalls them, and you will have to live with the consequences no matter what they are," he replied, his voice filled with both anger and sadness.

"I'll do anything…. Please!" he exclaimed, desperation and panic in his voice. Hermione hated watching Snape grovel, down on his knees and looking manic.

"There is no other option but to save the Potters, for their lives are rather dear to me. However, I am curious as to why a Death Eater is begging me for help concerning the lives of two of my most loyal supporters and their son."

Snape paused before saying, "I only wish for Lily to be safe."

"You care for her?" he asked quietly.

"More than anything."

Dumbledore paused for a long time, pacing back and forth while fiddling with an instrument at his leisure, deep in thought. "Since leaving Hogwarts you seem to have made exactly all of the wrong decisions, Severus. I am extraordinarily disappointed in you. However, there is still hope to rectify the mistake you have made."

"Thank you…. Thank you, Headmaster," he said, genuinely grateful.

"But if anything happens to the family…." Dumbledore could only shake his head in silence and grief. "I will leave and warn them, tonight. They must go into hiding, immediately."

"I am forever in your debt," he said, standing up.

"I will have to hold you to your word, Severus," Dumbledore replied, before swiftly leaving the room. Snape remained standing in Dumbledore's office, even though the memory changed. He was much older now, about the age he was in present day. He and Dumbledore were arguing, and Hermione quickly noticed the Headmaster's black limp hand lying on his desk.

Hermione watched as Snape pulled out his wand and a white doe burst out of the end, and something within her collapsed. He had always loved her… he had always loved Lily. Her Patronus had been a doe, Harry had told her so, and she remembered that Tonks's Patronus took the form of a werewolf when she had fallen in love with Remus. How could he still love her? It had been nearly twenty years, and yet…. As the word "Always" slipped from his lips, Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. To love someone for that long, and that strongly, was remarkable. It was a bond that could never be broken.

She turned towards Snape and looked into his eyes; they were deep and emotionless as always. "Why would you show me this?" she asked, desperately, unable to cope with the anger, jealously, and helplessness inside of her. "Everything you did for Harry…. You only did because of her!" she accused. But why had he been so keen to show this memory, this memory that proved he could love and live for someone else? Hermione thought that, somehow, it was his way of telling her that he would never love her. She hated herself incredibly for allowing herself to believe that it could have been any different.

"Miss Granger-"

"I want to leave now. Please." She turned away; she hated him so much that she couldn't bear to look at him.

"There is only one-"

"Please!"

He put a hand on her shoulder and looked down at her, his face pained and yet angry at the same time. She heard Dumbledore say something about "Sorting too early" as he stood up behind her. Severus looked away. "As you wish."

They landed back in his office and Hermione pulled away from the hand on her elbow. She stepped farther away from him, refusing to look at him as tears continued to leak out of her eyes.

"Miss Granger, I fail to understand why-"

"Then I fail to understand why I'm here," she said coldly, her voice shaking, laying her hand on the work table and glaring up at Snape.

He stared back, drew himself up and said, "We are through."

Hermione stepped backwards and then turned, walking quickly out of his office and through the passageways, up through the entrance hall and then to her own chambers. Snape stood, motionless, seemingly in disbelief before tilting his head upwards, a pained expression on his face and his eyes closed. He then walked over to his desk, sat on the thin wooden chair and propped his elbow on the table, his head in the palm of his right hand. He had lived a life of pain and loneliness, and it seemed that the only thing he would ever experience was the emptiness of loss. Loss of hope, loss of free will, loss of love… but mostly, loss of the hope to love, for he never had been, nor would he ever be, fit to love.


	6. The Path to Forgiveness

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR.

* * *

Hermione didn't see Snape again until Potions class the next day. She avoided his glance throughout his lecture and then during the practical, looking up only when he warned her that she had not chopped up her sneezewort the correct way. Hermione dumped it into the cauldron anyway, to spite him, and Snape took ten points from Gryffindor for not following directions. He then turned his back to her and went to take out more of his anger on Ginny, even though her potion seemed more than adequate. She was angry with him, jealous of Lily, and mostly sad that he had shown her that memory. _Always, always, always, _repeated a voice in her head. He would always love Lily, and he would never, never love her.

Snape had sent her several letters through her fireplace, asking for her presence in his chambers that night or the next morning, and she refused them all with various excuses, that she was tired or had too much homework. Every time she would send them back she would then lay down in bed, crying from her unhappiness. Deal or no deal, she couldn't allow him to torture her anymore with his past. She ached for his company, but loathed him too. How could he let her get close to him? But, then, it was her own fault that she cared so deeply, not his. Every time she thought about him her emotions became more and more strained. Eventually she ignored the letters and he stopped sending them; it destroyed her even further.

Ginny was her only companion, for everyone that Hermione knew had graduated the year before, with the exception of Luna. They spent a lot of time together doing homework and talking, and Ginny could tell from Hermione's prolonged unhappiness that there was something terribly wrong, even if she refused to reveal why. They were practicing their Vanishing Spells on Hermione's bedside table when Ginny broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Hermione… you've been really unhappy lately; it's not too hard to notice. Please, at least tell me why. Maybe there's-"

"There's nothing you can do to help," said Hermione darkly, lowering her wand as she attempted the spell and only managed to vanish one of the table's legs.

"How do _you_ know?" Ginny shot back angrily. "You aren't telling me anything at all! I'd be less angry if you let me in at least a _little_…. I guess I'll just have to keep wondering and theorizing about what it is until you tell me."

She looked away, knowing what Hermione's quiet retort would be before she even said it. "And what is it that you're _theorizing_?"

"Well, I mean, you sort of changed over the summer, Hermione. After the battle, you were different. But then Harry and Ron were, too. Everyone was…. I'd expected it to be over because… you know… we'd won. But it wasn't like we'd won at all. Voldemort was destroyed, but so was nearly everyone else. We all went through shock, and none of us ever saw you because you were here taking care of Snape. We came back to school, and you were so distant. I thought it was because you missed Harry and Ron, but even if you had I would have thought you'd be better by now. And then you were sick and Snape took care of you…. You've been miserable since then. But the thing is," she continued, "I watch you and him during Potions, Hermione. You won't even look at him. But he almost seems…." Her words trailed off before she looked back at her friend. "I've never seen him look hurt before, and certainly not in the way that he is when you ignore him." Hermione blushed, and Ginny asked, "Is there something between you?"

Hermione stuttered, "I... w-well, I don't really know. I mean, I think I… I think he might care for me, but-"

The look of horror on Ginny's face was genuine. "Hermione, he's almost twice your age! He's your _professor_!"

"I know, but-"

"He supported Lord Voldemort! He fought against us in the war! He had us _tortured _last year! How could you-"

"Stop it!" she exclaimed. "He was always on our side; he couldn't stop the Carrows because it would have given him up as Dumbledore's man. He lived the last twenty years as a spy-"

"How do you know, did he _tell _you? How could you believe him?"

"I know a lot more about him than you could ever claim, Ginny," she spat, angrily.

"So I was right, it's his fault you're so miserable. How could you stick up for him?"

"He's the reason we won. Without him, Voldemort would still be alive. How could I _not _stick up for him?"

"You care for him?" asked Ginny threateningly, almost accusatorily.

"I love him," she declared resolutely. Ginny stood up, glowering, picked up her books and left Hermione sitting alone on the floor. Hermione flopped on her bed, too tired and angry at Ginny to cry anymore. The release of her feelings for Snape to _someone_, no matter the circumstance, had liberated her, and she knew what she would have to do tomorrow. It was Saturday, and Snape did not have any classes. She would find him, and then… she didn't know what she would say or do, but she knew something had to be done. She couldn't continue to live like this anymore.

Hermione looked in the full-length mirror which hung in her room, shouldered her bag, and took a few deep breaths to calm down. She wasn't quite ready to go down to Snape's office, but if she didn't do it now when she was full of such compulsion she never would. She had a plan for when they met. She would tell him that she needed a recommendation for the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. They had a training program for students who came out of Hogwarts, and she would probably be interested in it anyway. At least her story was believable, and a good excuse to talk to him was all she needed.

As Hermione descended into the dungeons part of her expected him not to be there at the time she needed him most, but as she softly knocked on the door a deep voice beckoned, "Come in." She entered and closed the door behind her, the silence deafening and a sudden chill seeping into her. His back was turned as he stood hunched over his desk, quickly penning a note in one of his thick books.

"Professor?" she asked quietly, watching his hand stop as though he had been stunned, before slowly finishing and placing the quill in the inkwell.

He straightened up and turned around slowly, asking with a little bitterness, "What is it that you want, Miss Granger?"

Without skipping a beat, Hermione explained, "I plan on entering one of the Ministry's training programs next year, and I was hoping you would be able to write a recommendation for me." She dug through the school bag which hung over her shoulder for the paper, found it, and held it out to him.

He kept his hands at his sides and looked down at her angrily. Quietly, he said, "You run off when I show you my memories, ignore my letters when I attempt to explain myself, refuse to look at me for a month, and then come into my office asking for a recommendation? You should be lucky I don't _fail_ you," he seethed.

All the anger that she had felt and bottled up instantly flooded out. "I should be _lucky_? If you can't separate our personal problems from my schooling, and you feel it's so important that you fail me, why don't you just do it?" She stepped closer to him, shoving the papers back into her bag.

He stepped away and walked behind his desk to separate himself from her. "Your performance in my class is far from satisfactory; you cannot deny that. As for why I hesitate to fail you, Miss Granger, you can attribute that to the fact that it would look rather poor to future employers if you to graduated from Hogwarts at the age of twenty-one. You are already so far behind because of your year-long excursion from schooling that I daresay I could spare you the humiliation of returning for another year. As for our 'personal problems,' as you so delicately labeled them, you seem to be the one more deeply affected."

"It is difficult to live every day with the constant thought of your Potions Master's troubled past hanging over you," she spat. However, when she looked up at him she almost cowered from the dark look he gave her.

"I hope you aren't forgetting that it was _your _curiosity which began all of this."

"At least… at least I didn't feed the flame of something that could never catch fire."

Snape paused, narrowing his eyes as he continued to look down at her. "Meaning?" he asked quietly.

"I… I thought you were leading me in one direction, but I ended up in quite a different place than I thought I would. You…." She was so enraged with his apathy at the amount of stress she'd suffered that she could barely contain herself. Could he truly feel nothing? Was he really so heartless that he didn't care at all for her, despite _everything_? "You are torturing me, and you know it!" She stepped towards him, balled up her fist and struck him on the chest before bursting into tears and dropping to her knees.

Snape immediately knelt down next to her, wrapping his arms around her and shielding her with his cape. Hermione heard the click of the door locking as she sobbed, pressing her hands to her face and drawing her knees up to her chest. "Lily…" she cried, unable to control her tears, "you'll always love her."

He waited with his arms still around her body until her cries had stifled. "If you had the patience to see one more memory, as I had asked of you, you would have known the truth. I did love her, but no longer." His words were strained, and she realized how much he wanted her to know that he was not lying. "Showing you the memories was necessary for you to understand my actions concerning Mr. Potter. Again, one must fully comprehend the past to understand the present. My Pensieve is just down the hall; if you wish, we can put an end to this… misunderstanding of ours."

Hermione looked up at him, shocked that he was so close to her, her fingers twisted into the material of his cloak. She wanted to refuse him, but spending nearly a month without him and finding herself back in his presence, his familiarity, soothed her. She took a few ragged breaths, her eyes still red and pained from crying, and nodded.

Snape stood up and lent her his hand, pulling her from the ground before leading the way to his chambers again. Hermione noticed a potion bubbling softly on the table but focused on Snape, who now stood over his Pensieve, the blue light radiating from it glinting off the black of his hair.

"Let us not forget that you owe me several memories, Miss Granger," he said quietly, not to annoy her but to make the proceedings clear. She weighed her options heavily before placing the tip of her wand to her temple and casting two of her memories into the Pensieve as he proceeded to place two silver strands of his own. "Despite the fact that I said one of my own memories would suffice, two would be best for thoroughness," he explained. After mixing the contents with the tip of his wand, he looked down upon her and nodded.

They bent over, and with a sudden jolt Hermione found herself standing in her own living room at home. She watched herself pointing her wand at her parents as her father clutched her mother to him.

"Hermione… what are you doing?" her mother cried.

Hermione's eyes were full of tears as she looked from one parents to the other, both of their faces horror stricken.

"Please, put your wand away," her father calmly instructed.

She shook her head. "I can't… this is how it has to be. I can't let you get hurt. Just, please, know that I love you." She bit her lip and swirled her wand in their direction before her father could stop her. They both went into a daze simultaneously as she closed her eyes and murmured several words under her breath. She then took both of them by the arm and Apparated. Hermione didn't know what to expect, but she soon realized that her memory wasn't going to take her where she had Apparated.

"I modified their memories, so if the Death Eaters ever found them they wouldn't know anything," she told Snape, who was looking around the living room with interest.

"Where are they now?" he asked quietly.

"Australia."

"And are they-"

"They're still there." She didn't know how long the memory would last for, and stood close to Snape to watch him as he walked along the wall of her living room, leaning over the couch and looking into the pictures frames.

"Is this you?" he asked, pointing to a small girl in a pink dress with a large bowl of raspberries cradled in her hands, her mother kneeling at her side. She nodded, watching his curious expression with interest. "Your childhood was quite different than mine," he murmured, stepping away from the wall as it faded away. Hermione and Snape were standing in her bedroom at Hogwarts, watching Ron and herself fight.

"Ron… I can't." She had her hand at her forehead, as if suffering from a headache. "You're not the one for me. We've grown up together; you're like my brother. I love you, more than I can say, but… we can't Ron. You're not right for me." She folded her arms across her chest and sat down on the bed. She was in distress, but not nearly as much as he was.

"And who would be?" he asked, pacing her room angrily, his pride hurt.

"I… I don't know. Someone older, and… a little more sophisticated. Oh, Ronald, I _do_ love you… don't take it the wrong way," she cooed, watching him frown in anger and despair. "We're just so different… we don't want the same things. You're training to be an Auror, and I don't even know what I want to do with my life. We both need to do some growing up, and you have to find someone who can help you do that, not someone you'll bicker with for the rest of your life. I need to find someone who will understand me as well."

"A bloke like that doesn't exist, Hermione, unless he's a complete hermit who'll spend all day working and all night reading."

She crossed her arms even tighter. "A man like that _does _exist, and just because _you_ haven't known anyone like that doesn't mean they aren't real."

"So you've made up your mind?" he asked indignantly.

She nodded. "A long time ago."

"I'll see myself out, then," he muttered gruffly, slamming the door behind him. She sighed and stretched out on her bed, looking up at the ceiling and becoming lost in thought. Hermione refused to look at Snape and bent over her fireplace, humiliated at how blatant she had been. She had perfectly described Snape to Ron without even realizing it. However, she could sense his cold hand sweep along her wrist, and then felt his palm and fingers enfold hers.

"Miss Granger," he began, softly, as she tried to regain a semblance of having some control over her heart's erratic beating, "you must not get angry during this next memory. I was a different man then." He pulled her hand as he turned around, and she quickly realized that they were back in the Shrieking Shack, the same night as the Battle of Hogwarts. There Snape was, lying on the ground, bleeding, as she bent over him with the Elder Wand. Hermione was confused; why would he have wanted her version of the memory if he already had his own?

Her question was answered as the room suddenly became foggy, almost as if she was looking through an unclean glass. The space around them turned a pure white and Hermione stepped back, astonished, although she was halted by the pull of Snape's vise-like grip around her hand. In front of them a young man was struggling off of the ground, swaying like an infant learning to walk, before finally gaining his balance. His hand went to his neck and, seemingly amazed at the smoothness, he ran his hands over his face and then looked down at them. As he turned around, now trying to figure out where he was, Hermione realized that it was a very young Severus Snape; he seemed to be even younger than her. He was dressed in simple black robes, like those of a Death Eater. The air next to him began to shimmer, moving back and forth undecidedly until it took the form of a woman, her voice soft and sweet as she called "Severus?"

"Lily!" he exclaimed, picking her up in his arms and twirling her. Hermione's heart sank; the young Severus looked so overjoyed, happier than she had ever seen his adult counterpart. Lily was dressed in a set of brilliantly white robes, her red hair a flame compared to them. Lily was beautiful, Hermione thought, more beautiful than she ever would be. Severus stepped closer to her, folding her in his arms. "I love you, Lily; I never stopped. I promised that I would never love anyone but you. I've waited my whole life for this day, when we could be together. Always…." He was completely gone; Hermione would never imagine that this man had ever felt anything other than happiness, the way he was grinning at her.

She pulled away, not letting their eyes meet, and his smile faded. "I've missed you too, Severus, but… we can't." Her voice almost seemed to echo in the strange space they were in, like it was coming from all around them, but at that moment it cracked. "We're not meant to be together. You have to go back."

"Go back?" he asked, letting go of her. "I've waited my whole life to get here. You can't tell me I have to go back!" He was shaking from the emotions he felt, tears coming to his eyes.

"No, listen," she said, shaking her head so that her hair framed her face gracefully, and then straightening it out with her hands. Even in his desperation, Severus realized that he had forgotten the way she tucked her hair behind her ears, how sweet and gentle she always had been…. "I may have died to save him, Severus, but you did everything you could to keep him alive. Your job was much more difficult - I could never repay you. I didn't have a choice, but you did, and what you did was extremely brave. I don't… I don't even deserve what you did for me."

"No, Lily… please…" he begged.

She grabbed his hand and held it between her two cold palms. "Sev… I love you. But we can't change anything. If we could go back in time…." Her eyes drifted away into the emptiness, but then settled back upon his. "But we can't. We've made our decisions, and we will never, ever be together." Hermione could see Snape's reaction as the final bit of hope that he had lived for was pulled away from him. It was as if she had driven a knife through his heart. Lily's voice was shaking. "You must understand… you have a chance for a life. I don't, but you do. You can still love, you can still be happy. Don't throw everything that was given to you away for something you will never have." It was his turn to avoid her gaze, looking down and away from her. "Hey, look at me," she said, quietly, pressing her thin white hand against his chin. "I have to leave soon; Harry needs me. But listen; there will be someone ready to love you as soon as you open your heart to them. You never were as cold a person as you wanted everyone to believe. You need to find happiness, Sev; you deserve it more than anyone I know. You'll realize it soon enough."

"But who… who would ever love me?" he asked, miserably. Hermione had never seen anyone look so pitiful. All of this was so strange, so unnatural, as though she was only watching a dream.

"You will be surprised, when you realize, and she'll be better for you than I ever was, Sev. She'll always be there for you, I promise. You need to go and live your life." And with that she stepped away, saying, "I'll love you always," before disappearing silently and quickly, like a light that had been blown out. He didn't respond, sinking down onto his knees and shaking with anger and unhappiness. Hermione suddenly realized why Snape had looked so vacant the night she had saved him from the effects of Nagini's attack. For the first time in seventeen years, he had spoken to Lily Potter, only to be turned away once more. The young Severus faded from view as everything turned black, lightening only a little as Snape's chambers appeared suddenly in front of her.

Hermione was surprised as she heard was her own angry voice exclaim, "I thought you would at least be kind to someone who had not only saved your life, but who had also spent her whole summer with you to make sure you were well. You're so selfish… you don't care about anyone but yourself!" She watched as she stormed out of the room, Snape's black eyes narrowing and following her, not even flinching as she slammed the door. He stared at the door, not moving from where he stood, and Hermione was almost surprised that it didn't burst into flames from the intensity of his gaze. He turned his head, beside himself with anger, and strode into his bedroom.

Snape's grip on Hermione's hand had not loosened and she was unable to move, but instead had to wait until he emerged a few moments later with two pieces of paper in his hand. Hermione was tugged over towards the fireplace, where Snape from the memory had fallen to his knees. She saw now that one paper was a yellowed letter with a delicate signature, and the other was actually a torn section of a photograph of Lily, her smiling face in the right-hand corner. Snape took them in his hands and looked them over before ripping them up with force, tossing the pieces into the fire.

"You were wrong!" he bellowed at the fire, Lily's almost taunting face melting and burning into ash. Hermione's heart banged against her chest in fear and from the shock of his temper. "You were wrong," he hissed, "and no one will _ever_ care for me." Snape got up and knocked over the table next to the couch with the swipe of his hand, hearing the satisfying crash of the lamp hitting the ground before sitting down in his armchair. He put his head in his right palm and massaged his temples. Here he was, all alone, even though she had promised him something to live for. How could he have trusted her? She was the very one who had left him, all those years ago, and there was no reason he should have believed that she would know what was best for him. He had begged for forgiveness from Lily, and after all he had done for her he still was the villain, hated and alone.

"We are done here," Snape murmured, and Hermione was pulled upwards before realizing that she stood at his side, his hand still clasped to hers. He pulled it away, and it was his turn to avoid her glance as he stood at the work table, his hands on either side of the cauldron as he looked into the swirling potion. "Do you know what this is?" he asked quietly, still looking down.

"Of course I do; it's Amortentia." She realized that she still had her school bag over her shoulder and gently placed it onto the table before standing next to him, leaning in to smell the vapors but frowning a little before drawing away. "You've brewed it incorrectly."

"What do you mean, Miss Granger?"

"Amortentia is supposed to smell like the things that attract us most."

"And?"

"I can't smell anything."

He bent forward, his large nose above the spiraling steam which came from the potion, and then he paused as though weighing his words. "That doesn't mean it's brewed incorrectly." He looked down into her brown eyes, his own softening. "As usual, Miss Granger, your eye for detail has caused you to overlook the more obvious explanation. Perhaps everything that attracts you most is right before you."

She glanced from her school bags to him, and she understood. Snape turned towards her and softly placed his hands on her shoulders, pulling her towards him. She allowed herself to be enfolded by his embrace, her palms touching his chest as he ran his fingers through the tips of her hair. She nearly fainted.

Quietly, he said, "I lived my life with an emptiness I thought that only she could fill. I didn't realize, for the longest time, that she was what had caused it." He spoke to her softly, watching as she looked up at him, her chin resting on his chest and her eyes slowly filling with tears. "And then you saved my life, and for once I felt whole again. You couldn't possibly believe that I don't care for you, Hermione." His hand flitted along her cheekbone, his thumb tracing the length her jaw.

She was almost convinced that she was having a dream, that this could only have been something out of her imagination, but she knew completely and without doubt that it was real. "Y-you have a terrible way of showing it," she said, trying to laugh but shaking too hard to manage it. As though to spite her words, his nose touched hers as he bent closer. Hermione closed her eyes and felt his lips barely touch hers. She pressed back, trembling so much that she didn't know how much longer she could stand up, and he placed kisses on her lips again and again, fully meeting them every time with a tenderness that reached into her core.

"Sometimes," he began, speaking between kisses, "I feel like nothing I've ever done has been for any good." He paused, lingering over her nose, her lips slightly open and feeling empty without his pressed to them. "But now, I feel like something is exactly the way it should be."

Snape lowered his mouth, wrapping his arms around her torso, but before he reached her lips she choked out, "No, you're wrong." He drew away, looking down at her questioningly before she whispered, "You _always_ were the hero."


	7. The Intrusion

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Never in her wildest dreams did Hermione ever think she would be standing here, her body pressed so closely to Severus Snape's and his mouth positioned so softly above hers. His right hand outlined her cheek even though his eyes were closed, as though he was attempting to memorize the feel of her skin under his. He paused in order to bend down and place his right hand under her knees, wrapping his left arm around her torso and lifting her up to carry her away. She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned her head against his shoulder, and for a moment she didn't know where he would take her. He covered the small distance between his kitchen and living room, stopped at his armchair and sat down before spreading his legs a little so she would be sitting on the cushion, her legs on one arm of the chair and her back supported by the other.

He bent closer to her, leaning to put his right arm around her torso to meet his left so he could hold her to his chest. Snape's mouth met hers again, and the apprehension within her melted away. She couldn't want anything more than what he was giving her right now - his passion, his body, and his undivided attention. She mirrored his actions and met his lips with almost the same fury that he was meeting hers, her hands reaching up into his hair and feeling it run through her fingers, blissfully realizing that this wasn't a dream, that he wanted her too, that he relished in the feel of her hands on him and tilted back his head to allow her greater access. He broke their kiss to do so and she took the opportunity to run a free hand along the two thick white scars on his throat, feeling the difference between the new skin and the old. It was this tragedy, the few moments he had spent with Death, which had brought them together. It was strange to think so, but it was true. Now he was reveling in her presence, as though there was nothing else in the entire world which could please him more than Hermione Granger sitting in his lap.

Her hands moved to his face, trailing across his features with the slightest of touches. Every part of him intrigued her - his neatly feathered eyebrows, the black hairs against the white skin, the small crease in his forehead from thought, his thin lips and almost legendary nose…. She nearly giggled to think that it was all right here, at the tips of her fingers.

Snape opened his eyes and stared back at her, his entire body still except for the movement of his chest as he breathed in and out, allowing her to discover him as he pleased. Hermione had never noticed the true color of his eyes. They were a dark grey, nearly black, but not as cold as she remembered. She brushed the hollow of his cheek with the back of her hand, wondering to herself if anyone had touched him like this, had caressed his face lovingly, or whether she was the first. No one had ever looked at her the way he did now, as though he wanted to touch and taste every part of her. But his expression was also that of gratitude, nearly as if he couldn't believe she was sitting there either.

He pressed his nose to hers, the corner of his lips turning upwards as he then leaned forward to touch cheeks and burrow his nose in her hair. His skillful hands moved from her lips to eyelids to chin before leaving her ear to sift through her soft, long hair. Hermione pressed her face into his chest and kissed the black fabric of his robes as he wound her hair between his fingers, settling against the back of the armchair. She wanted every part of him, as though touching him would prove to herself that this was really happening. They peacefully sat together, entirely captivated by the other's breathing, movement, skin, lips….

After the longest time Hermione sat up and gently took one of Snape's hands in hers, laying it flat against her own. Her hand was dwarfed, her small fingers fleshed out in soft pink skin lying against the yellowed-white of his own. While her fingers were smooth and nearly unblemished, his hand was covered in healed scars and burns from a lifetime of working with potions. She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed the knuckles before they clasped their hands together. Hermione leaned her head against his shoulder, more content than she could ever remember being. It felt so natural to her, so absolutely _right_, as though they had been together for years. Snape turned so his nose rested against the top of her head, his mouth pressing against the tip of her ear, and closed his eyes as he listened to her breathe.

The fire began to stir, the flames curling upwards and sparks flying across the stone floor. Hermione slipped out of her shoes and brought her feet up, hugging her knees and snuggling into his chest. She felt the heat from the fire envelop her and sensed Snape's fingers caress her ankle which was covered by a grey woolen stocking. She placed a hand upon his chest, mesmerized by the movement of his breathing. Could he really be here, holding her and caressing her like so? It was all too fantastical to believe, too impossible to be real.

The flames in the grate sputtered again before turning a violent emerald green, and Hermione watched in horror as a furious Professor McGonagall stepped out of the hearth and strode right up to them. Before Hermione could even leap out of his lap McGonagall had wrapped a cold hand around her wrist, wrenching Hermione to her feet and away from Snape. He quickly stood up, his eyes turning cold and meeting the Headmistress's.

"How could you permit something like this, S-Severus!" she sputtered angrily. "Not only permit, but be a part of? This is outrageous!"

"Let us not be so hasty, Minerva," he warned through gritted teeth, although his iron grip on the back of the armchair belied the apparent confidence behind his words.

"How _dare _you make demands? You have been caught romancing a student! This is betrayal of your duty as a professor to the highest degree! Young Miss Weasley came into my office a moment ago and warned me about your potential affection for Miss Granger, and I am entirely astonished to find you as so. Tell me," she said, turning to Hermione, as though hoping she would be the first to break under her angry glare, "how long have you and Professor Snape been romantically involved?"

Hermione's already flushed face turned darker from embarrassment. What had been a dream only a few moments ago was now a nightmare. "W-we've only just… just t-today," she stuttered.

"You're lying," McGonagall accused, gripping her arm tighter. "Tell me the truth, Hermione, or your punishment will be made much worse."

"I-I swear, I'm not lying!" she exclaimed, looking the Headmistress in the eye for the first time before turning towards Snape, a wretched expression on her face.

"Shame on you, Hermione. A liar or not, you have made a serious misjudgment on your part. I will see you in your room in a few moments." McGonagall made a quick jerk of her head towards Snape's door, signifying dismissal. Hermione didn't even have the bravery to retrieve her shoes which sat at Snape's feet, and instead walked the entire distance between the dungeons and Gryffindor Tower shoeless.

She sat on the edge of her bed, shivering from anger at McGonagall and Ginny. Her best friend had betrayed her in the worse way possible, and Hermione utterly loathed her for it.

After quite a while an exasperated McGonagall appeared in the fireplace, her hands balled under the draping of her dark green robes, her eyes peering at Hermione through square spectacles. "I am more than disappointed in you, Miss Granger. You are Head Girl; your post is a coveted one, and I expected you to behave responsibly and honorably, to be a model student. I cannot _believe _that I am here speaking to you about this. Of all people, you should be sensible."

"I hardly understand what is dishonorable about my affections for Professor Snape," she said, standing up and gulping dryly as she shook. Earlier today, she would never have pronounced her feelings about him to anyone who wasn't a trusted friend, and now she was blatantly telling McGonagall, of all people!

"The _affections_," she scorned, lingering on the word, "of a teenage girl are fleeting, and to be forgotten quickly."

"I am to be twenty this fall. You may have forgotten, but I am clearly old enough to take care of myself."

"Clearly," said McGonagall, her face white with anger, "you are not as brilliant a girl as I had once thought you to be." She paced in silence, eyeing Hermione's possessions as though trying to find something of Snape's which had been left there, or some token of affection. Finding nothing, she halted and ordered, "You are forbidden to seek out Professor Snape. If you disobey me, you will be expelled and will not be readmitted. Likewise, Professor Snape is also in danger of losing his teaching position. It is by my grace that he is still teaching here, and I am nearly through with putting up with him. Do you understand me?" Hermione nodded curtly, her face displaying only anger. "I don't think you are aware of the seriousness of your relationship with Professor Snape. If anyone was to know of your trysts, the very name of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be defaced - and I will not allow that to happen." She swept out of the room and closed Hermione's door, turning left down the corridor to take the stairs to her office.

Hermione was completely devastated. Everything had been given to her and taken away so quickly. She crumpled onto the floor in front of the fireplace and sobbed, curling up in a ball and gasping deeply with each painful cry. If she twisted her head she could still smell him on her clothes, and that alone was comfort even when she didn't have the energy to cry anymore.

.

.

.

Minerva McGonagall sat at her desk with a hand to her forehead as though she was suffering through a terrible headache. She sipped some tea from the cup at her side before returning to the grading at hand, even though it was difficult to concentrate with all of the fury which ran through her. The Headmistress leaned back into the thickly padded armchair that enveloped her, as she couldn't push the thoughts away anymore. How could her Head Girl possibly become part of such a scandal? Much less a Gryffindor… much less Hermione Granger! Always the model student, always an answer for any question; she seemed to be so sensible. And now that Harry and Ron had left, she been sure her trouble-making days were over. Hermione was supposed to complete her education without any more illicit adventures, graduating with top marks and earning a full scholarship to study wherever she liked. How could she have possibly allowed Severus Snape to be added into the equation?

Minerva sighed, thinking back to this summer. Of course, she should have seen it; it was almost too obvious. All the time Hermione had spent taking care of him, talking to him, seeing his private chambers….

"Why so displeased, Minerva?" a soft voice issued from behind her. She pushed her chair back and got to her feet, turning to face the larger-than-life portrait of Albus Dumbledore which hung on the wall behind her.

"I caught Severus Snape and Hermione Granger _together _in his private chambers this afternoon," she said quietly but angrily, leaning back against the desk as she looked up.

"Ah," he replied softly, folding his hands together on his knee. He looked as elegant as ever, his neatly trimmed beard coming to a point at his waist and dressed in the purple robes he wore as Headmaster.

"They seem to be in a physical relationship; can you believe that?" she demanded crossly as she clenched the edge of her desk in frustration. Several other Headmasters and Headmistresses looked on from their portraits, whispering in between themselves

"Miss Weasley did seem genuinely concerned when she alerted you this morning; it would be folly not to believe her claim. However, you seem as though a great injustice has been done to you, and I am curious as to why that is."

She paused, eyeing him from where she stood. "You couldn't possibly condone this type of behavior. It's simply not acceptable!"

"According to who, Minerva? I know Severus extremely well, and can say with greatest confidence that his intentions would only ever be honorable-"

"And you see _nothing _wrong?" she asked, in complete disbelief.

"Must you be so callous, Minerva?" His voice was gentle but strong as he leaned over to speak to her. "Everything we've ever done was to make people feel safe again, to live again. If Severus cares for Miss Granger, then let it be. Goodness knows I've strayed from the path of what was suitable in my time," he chuckled, smiling calmly. "And besides; what could possibly be more glorious than love?"

.

.

.

Hermione sat with all of her textbooks splayed open around her, trying to study but finding it nearly impossible to concentrate. Her eyes pained her whenever she blinked, but she had to keep working even though it was the middle of the night. She had tried to fall asleep for hours but could only lay with her eyes open, her mind racing and her chest heavy from shock, replaying what had happened earlier in her mind. The old-fashioned radio at her knee was playing a soft instrumental song to keep her awake as she prepared for the final round of exams that preceded the end-of-the-year N.E.W.T.s. There also was half a foot due for advanced charmwork, two feet she needed to write for Snape on ancient potions, star charts for Astronomy, and she still had to practice Vanishing Spells. It was going to be a long Sunday.

A knock at the door surprised her, but there could really only be one person who would be at her door at this time of night. She wasn't surprised when she pulled at the handle and saw a distraught-looking Ginny standing in the hallway. She obviously hadn't been able to sleep either.

"Ginny, I don't want to-"

The redheaded girl stepped forward and quickly began speaking over her. "Hermione, please; I was scared for you…. I was sure there was something else he wanted; he couldn't-" She paused for just too long, enough to give Hermione the gist of what she wanted to say.

"What? He couldn't possibly care for me, is that it?" She glared at her, every nerve tingling with fury.

"I just didn't want you to get hurt."

"You've succeeded brilliantly, Ginny," she lashed out bitterly, her voice wavering and her eyes clouded with tears. "You're almost as adept at understanding emotions as your brother; I'm perfectly fine, all thanks to you. Now, I have a lot of homework to get done, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother me anymore."

"Hermione!" exclaimed Ginny, but the door had already closed in her face.

A new anger consumed Hermione, but she knew that she had to forget it. She had too much to do, and she needed to get her mind off of the anger. After the longest time she finally got around to writing a few inches for Potions, letting the memory of Snape's voice dictate them in her head, before a flash of white light appeared at her window. Hermione assumed it was a ghost even though it was rather bright, but it only hovered outside. It tapped on the window pane, alerting her to its presence – it wanted to be let in. She stood up and lifted the latch at the window to allow it entry and the Patronus swooped past her, carrying the cold night air with it. It was a bird, she realized, and even though she had never been skilled at identifying magical creatures she knew what it was. It was an Augurey, an Irish Phoenix, and she could almost make out the green-black feathers despite the blinding light. It settled down next to her bed and looked up at her mournfully before opening its sharp beak and speaking in the deep voice of Severus Snape.

"I apologize if I woke you, but I couldn't chance Minerva spotting it. She will be watching the owls and fireplaces and it is not worth your expulsion to contact me otherwise. Finish the studying you are undoubtedly working on this weekend and do not worry. I will think of something." With that the Phoenix was consumed in white flames before disappearing. The room became dark again except for the firelight, and despite being miserable Hermione sat down and smiled a little to herself. Somewhere, Severus Snape was hoping that she had received his message. It meant that he was thinking about her.

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Hermione suffered through an early Monday morning with McGonagall chastising her during Transfiguration, a strenuous lesson in Herbology during which she was told to prune the school's Devil's Snare, and a History of Magic class more boring than normal. She had a break for lunch, and instead of heading for the Great Hall with everyone else she climbed to the library on the fourth floor. As Professor Binns had endlessly lectured, her mind had wandered to find a solution, a loophole of sorts. There had to be a definitive answer as to whether a professor and student could have a relationship, and there was only one place she could think of looking.

She walked through the familiar rows of bookshelves and wound her way to the very back, near the entrance to the Restricted Section. She knocked upon the door of a small office and stepped backwards as Madam Pince answered, opening the door and peering up at Hermione through small glasses resting on the edge of her nose. It was uncanny how much she looked like a rather peeved bird which had been in a rainstorm, thin and dusty with pointed shoulders and crossed arms.

"Yes?" she asked, her voice harsh and thin.

"Could I borrow the school's rulebook?" Hermione asked, nervously.

"What for?" droned Madam Pince, looking down her beak-like nose at Hermione who attempted her best at staying calm.

"I'm just… doing research." The librarian eyed her again, but since she knew it was not unlike Hermione to do unnecessary research she acquiesced and returned from the reserves in the back with a very large volume in her arms.

"You're going to have to read it here. It's not allowed to leave the library."

Hermione nodded and took it in her arms, laying it on the table in front of her and standing in front of it to flip through page by page. It was thousands of pages, each one a foot in width and three in length – no one could possibly know every one of the rules. It was discouraging. She tried to narrow her search, but always became distracted by what she found. Pages and pages on conduct in the hallways, things that were not allowed to be stored in broom closets, punishments that were no longer permitted to be practiced, illegal plants not to be brought into the school…. Finally, she found sections about the code of conduct of teachers and students…. But where would it be?

After the longest time she found several passages which dictated what she was looking for. She quickly took out her parchment and scratched them down, along with the corresponding page and article numbers. Satisfied with her quick research, she stuffed the paper into her pocket, found Madam Pince, handed her the rulebook, and ran down to the dungeons. Despite her attempt to hurry, she was late for Potions. She opened the heavy wooden door and everyone in the room turned around, surprised at her disheveled appearance. Snape stood at the board in the front of the classroom. Not only had she been late, but she had interrupted his lecture.

It wasn't at all disheartening but funnily more of a gift to hear him drawl, "Five points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, Miss Granger." _Miss Granger_…. Her name on his lips struck her so deeply that it was a wonder she found her way to an open stool next to a large Hufflepuff boy without stumbling from her weakened knees. She pulled out her Potions book and began taking notes, listening intently to Snape and watching his every move more closely than she ever had before. Those hands that held the chalk…. Had they really touched hers? His eyes that carefully swept over everyone else's in turn before casually meeting hers…. Had she really been only inches from them? And his lips…. At the thought, her hand unconsciously went to her own... She looked down, hoping no one had noticed.

It seemed to be the shortest lecture he'd ever given, turning them to complete the practical out of their book on their own. She looked around and noticed that everyone already had all of their ingredients. Of course, Snape always handed them out at the beginning of class.

She stood up, almost deliriously happy to find a reason to speak to him, and walked to his desk at the front of the classroom. He looked up at her approach and quietly asked, "Miss Granger?"

Her throat was so dry she could barely speak, but somehow she was able to convey the fact that she didn't have any of the necessary supplies to make the potion. He stood up and she followed him to the store room, a small chamber in the back which he unlocked with the flick of his wand. Snape entered first, and as soon as she had come in behind him he turned around and pushed the door so that it was only slightly open.

In quick murmurs he asked, "Was it true that you told Miss Weasley that we had feelings for each other?" He was not accusatory but instead plainly unsure, searching for the various ingredients on the high shelves as he listened for her response.

"Well, I told her that it was I who cared for you; not the other way around. Prior to two days ago I was certain that you hated me."

"Why would that be deserved?" The clink of glass vials was soft as he slowly poured out the proper amount of beetle eyes and handed it to her.

She paused, before quickly declaring, "Both of our actions towards the other have been rather abominable. But I do rather care for you, more than I thought I could."

His actions slowed, his fingers drifting over the wooden shelves and across the labels as he searched for valerian. "Minerva is furious, and it is difficult to make her understand even when she isn't. We've been rather resentful towards each other from the beginning, and she finds no reason to trust me after my small stint as Headmaster. However, that can hardly be blamed." Snape pulled out three mouse teeth from a jar and transferred them into another vial.

"Sir, I have something I have to tell you," Hermione said, shaking a little as she did.

He found a jar of dried clovers and said, "We must be quick; I'm sure Miss Weasley is rather suspicious of our intentions as it is."

"I've been thinking, and I realized that nothing could change McGonagall's mind once it's made up. However, she could be forced to change it," she said eagerly, watching him turn to face her.

"How so?" He stepped closer, pausing with several bottles of ingredients in his hands.

"She's a stickler for rules; she wouldn't be able to keep us apart if it wasn't justified. So, I've read a few sections of the Hogwarts rulebook."

"And?"

"There are several clauses that I had to read through, but I wrote them down, here," she said, holding the vials against her side with her left forearm and reaching into her pocket with her right hand. He placed the bottles on the shelves behind him and took the parchment she held from her, quickly scanning it with his eyes as she spoke. "The rulebook states that as long as the student is of age, and the relationship is consensual… it's allowed!" She had a huge grin splayed across her face, and Snape's mouth turned upwards at the edges.

"Hermione, you truly are a brilliant girl."

"I know-" His mouth was on hers, soft and tender, and she pushed back eagerly, wrapping her right arm around the back of his neck, her left pinned against his chest. He drew away quickly, not wanting them to be discovered, and put his hand against her lower back to steer her out of the chamber.

"We'll confront McGonagall after dinner," he murmured, removing his palm and striding towards his desk as she floated to her table. She didn't even notice the dark, suspecting look Ginny was shooting her with and knocked nearly all of her beetle eyes off of the table, but she knew that nothing could make her feel any better.


	8. Night Flight

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione ate dinner with urgency, gulping down her chicken soup at a velocity that would have impressed Ron. Snape sat at the staff table, patiently cutting slices of ham and placing them on his dinner place. He was at the very end of the table, his usual post, as far removed from McGonagall as was possible. Hermione ignored the watchful gaze of both Ginny and the Headmistress as she pulled out her books, studying as she waited for Snape to make his exit. The sky above was stormy and clouded – it looked as though it would snow soon – and her only light was from the floating candles a few feet from her head.

Students began to trickle out and McGonagall was surprisingly one of the first teachers to leave; Hermione figured she had some grading to complete. Snape sat contemplatively at the table, sipping gently from his glass as he gave time for McGonagall to reach her office. He rose and left the Great Hall after several minutes, Hermione following him when some more time had passed. She saw him standing at the foot of the stairs, scolding several fourth years for casting spells in the hall, before turning to walk up to the first floor. She followed him quickly and nearly sprinted until she met his pace. They walked together in silence as they took staircase after staircase, meeting no one on their way and stopping when they had made it to the seventh floor.

They stood before the statue of the gargoyle which created a blockade to the Headmistress's Office and Snape loudly said, "_Factum Facillimus_," watching the stone statue turn. To Hermione he muttered, "Eight floors separating Minerva McGonagall and myself will never be enough."

She smiled nervously and felt his fingers graze the back of her hand before they stepped onto the platform, rising as the gargoyle twisted upwards. Hermione and Snape both strode towards McGonagall's desk as she looked up, her lips pressed thinly together. Her hair was not in its usual bun but instead lay down in sections upon her back. She had obviously not expected any visitors at this time of evening. Her quill paused over the sentence she was correcting on an essay and she placed it into the ink well as she stood up.

"I am astonished at your insolence," she spat, standing at the corner of her desk as she looked from Snape to Hermione with her violently blue eyes. "What do you have to say for yourselves?" Snape pulled the folded piece of parchment from within his cape and handed it to the Headmistress, watching her unfold it and read it quickly. "What is this copied from?" she asked.

"The school's rulebook," Hermione squeaked, her voice thin and weak.

"The article numbers are there – you may look them up to verify their accuracy if you wish. But the meaning is clear. There is nothing inappropriate or illicit about our relationship."

Hermione watched as McGonagall furrowed her eyebrows in frustration. She had been right - the Headmistress followed the rules above all and would not refuse anyone their rights, despite her own personal feelings against them, if there was nothing backing her claim. She exercised strict rule over the student body, but she was not a tyrant.

She laid the parchment on her desk and cleared her throat, looking older and weaker than ever. "Very well then. However, I am asking you to keep the news of your relationship private at least until the school year has ended. The last thing I need is a rumor that our Potions Master is smitten with the Head Girl…" she trailed off, almost to herself. Hermione looked up for the first time and noticed the larger than life-size portrait of Dumbledore hanging behind her desk. She could have sworn that she saw him wink.

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Snape unlocked the door to his chambers, letting Hermione enter first before shutting the door behind them. He took off his cape and hung it on a hook near the doorway, lit the fire in the grate from across the room, and opened an icebox which was set into the cabinets under the sink.

"Would you like a drink?" he asked, pulling out two wine glasses and a large bottle.

"Whatever you're having," she replied as she sat down on the arm of his large chair, dropped her schoolbag behind it, and looked into the growing fire. They were acting as though there was nothing remarkable between them even though Hermione's heart was burning with the keenest of sensations. If this was a dream, she knew she would have to learn to live a life that was a fantasy.

She stood up and Snape handed her a glass of red wine which she sipped, the rich bittersweet flavor lingering on her tongue even as her mouth opened to his and she lost all other sensation. She pulled away and put her cheek against his chest as she smiled sweetly, realizing that his free hand was again pressed against her lower back. She drank a little more before placing the glass on the table by the couch and sitting down, sinking into the middle cushion. Snape set down his own glass, sat in the corner and pulled out his wand, tapping it on their seat so that it extended a little; not as far as it had when it had been Hermione's sickbed but enough to give them room. Snape pushed off his shoes, moved parallel to the back of the couch, and pulled Hermione to his chest. She was so surprised how sweet, how _tender _he was with her, as though wanting to touch her and memorize the way she felt and moved. Her cheek lay directly above his heart, her legs between his. His hands ran through her hair and then rested on her back while her hands wrapped around his neck. Her fingers enjoyed the smoothness of the skin beneath his ears, the area below his jaw, the softness of his earlobe….

A deep rumble came from beneath her when Snape spoke, and she closed her eyes to feel as well as listen. "Hermione," he said quietly, "I have a question to ask you."

Her thumb was softly stroking the back of his ear while her fingers were threaded through his hair, but she stopped at his words. It still surprised her every time he used her first name, and she whispered breathlessly, "Yes?"

"Even after seeing your memory of the event, I could never quite understand why you felt so compelled to save me when I was attacked. Any other student in your position would have accepted my fate – some even gladly." She made a noise of disapproval but he retorted, "I know that I am quite possibly the least liked professor at this school, but it is not undeserved. As to my question – do you have an answer?"

She drew her right hand from his ear and ran her fingers along his side. "Do you remember the incident at the Department of Mysteries?"

"Hmm."

She took it as a yes, and explored the spaces between his ribs as she quietly explained, "I was hit with a curse that almost killed me, and Madam Pomfrey had me drink ten potions a day to remove the effects. I remember asking her what was in one of them because it was rather sweet, unlike the others. She could only guess, and I knew that meant she hadn't brewed them. I figured the only person who could of was you; so I owed you _my_ life. Besides, I wouldn't have let you die. You weren't my favorite person but I would never be so – cruel – as to just let someone die."

He kissed the crown of her head and murmured deeply, "Very true. However, I was only fulfilling my position as Potions Master of the school. You were acting out of selflessness and bravery, and for that I am still in your debt."

Hermione breathed shallowly before shifting herself so that her knees straddled his hips. She propped herself up by the arm of the couch with her hands, her face inches from his. "I'll relieve you of it," she declared, feeling his hands hold her hair back as they kissed.

"What do you mean?" he asked during their pauses, his voice breathy as well.

"You said that… you owe me… your life... as your debt." They could barely break apart for they wanted to taste, to explore, to touch so much that their thirst for each other was unquenchable. "If you think… I should have it… then… I'll take it."

He paused, opening and closing his eyes slowly, pressing his nose to hers, their lips almost touching. "So be it," he asserted, running his hands along the back of her arms and then pressing so she would know to lie on her side. He skimmed his right hand along her torso and hip before resting it upon her cheek, watching her burrow her face into the cloth of his jacket and smile contentedly. He drew her close and held her there for a long time, feeling her stomach touch his as they breathed in and out. It was curious how the emptiness had gone from him; the new fullness was almost too much to bear. Snape stroked her cheek fondly before saying, "I am certain you have things to do for your classes tomorrow."

"Don't make me," she said in slight protest, turning her face to look up at him, her cheeks flushed and the corner of her lips curling upwards.

"We wouldn't want McGonagall berating you for a missed assignment after our first evening together."

Hermione pulled her lips into a pout before realizing how silly she must have looked. She began giggling, reaching up and caressing his cheek with her hand and watching his own smirk transform into a twisted smile. She withdrew a little, her eyebrows furrowing. Did Severus Snape just smile?

If any expression of happiness had been there, it now had faded. "You seem somewhat puzzled," he remarked, his fingers grazing her shoulder blades.

"I've never seen you… er… look happy before. It's quite unsettling."

To her surprise, he let out a soft breath of air that could have been mistaken for a brief chuckle. "I've never had a reason to be happy before. However, if it bothers you, I shall refrain-"

"Don't be-" she paused, searching for the right word. She wanted to say 'silly' or 'obstinate,' but that wasn't the correct way to put it. "Don't be difficult."

"You would do best to follow your own advice," he retorted, sitting up and then pulling her up with him. Her hair was messy and she immediately smoothed it out, pulling down her shirt that had ridden up and reaching for the wine glass he held out to her. She thanked him, drank some more, and then accepted her schoolbag as he summoned it from behind the armchair. The bag was heavy with books she had yet to read, tiny passages marked out with pieces of parchment from old assignments. Hermione opened up to one of them, a quill, ink well and fresh sheet of parchment by her side as she read and took notes. Snape wrapped his arm across her back and read with her, silently watching her movements, noticing the speed at what she read and the way she formed her letters as she wrote.

After she had finished her homework Snape noted, "It's rather late; you should be asleep by now." She didn't protest, knowing very well that he could see the bags under her eyes and the sluggishness of her movements as she got up from the couch and placed her schoolbag over her shoulder. He led her to the door, gave her a tender kiss goodnight, and said, "Sleep well."

She left the room and turned the corner before placing her hot forehead against the cold walls of the dungeon. It was all moving so fast, she could barely believe it….

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Indeed, the first month of their time together had flashed by, and then their second. The weather changed, the snow melted, the trees grew leaves and the flowers budded, and even though April was grey and dismal outside Hermione had never been happier. She spent most every evening with Snape as she studied and prepared for all of her N.E.W.T.s, letting him help her when she didn't understand. She noticed after some weeks of intensive studying that her magic had changed, and not from practice but from feeling. It was stronger and more focused than she'd even known it to be and her professors were more delighted by her talent than ever. Things she had never thought herself capable of – such as advanced wandless magic – seemed to flow from her naturally. She wondered if, as the power of wizards or witches who are unhappy ebb from them, perhaps the opposite was true.

Snape seemed to have changed as well, although it was shown by a subtle lessening of tension in his face, a softer timbre to his voice, and more patience as he helped Hermione with her lessons. They never seemed to be able to have their fill of the other, no matter the time spent together or the number of kisses exchanged. But, Hermione realized that he was more than a lover to her. She had gained a true friend in Severus Snape.

Hermione took a trip one weekend to Diagon Alley in order to buy several books from Flourish and Blotts that Snape suggested would be helpful for her N.E.W.T.s. He offered to escort her, but being together in public would surely cause suspicion. Besides, Hermione was independent and enjoyed time by herself, especially on a warm and windy April afternoon. She entered the dark and musty shop after escaping from the mob of people outside enjoying the nice weather. More advanced books were found in the deeper reaches of the store, and so she made her way through the rows and past shelves which extended up to the ceiling in every direction. Hermione turned the corner and stopped in her tracks from surprise, before walking quietly and then throwing her arms around an unsuspecting Harry Potter.

"Whuh?" he asked, slightly frightened and muffled by her hair, unable to speak.

"Harry Potter, in a bookshop?" she said sarcastically as she drew away. "What's next, Ronald Weasley in an apothecary?"

"Hermione!" he exclaimed, properly hugging her and then pulling away again. She noticed he was wearing the simple grey robes of an Auror in training. "I haven't seen you in forever! Sorry for not writing-"

"We're both to blame for that, I guess. But what are you doing here, really?"

"Training is brutal, Hermione."

It was true, he looked very haggard and careworn, but she still mocked playfully, "You finally have to write your own essays and read your own books?"

He smiled back weakly. "Well, as bad as I look, Ron's worse…."

"How is he?" she asked quietly.

"Fine; he's Ron, he can deal with anything." The way he said it and then looked away made her wonder if he was being truthful, but she ignored it.

"Harry, I need to talk to you about something."

He sighed and said, "I know about you and S-"

Hermione hushed him quickly, whispering, "You are going to be the worst Auror in all of England if you talk about _secrets _openly!"

"_Openly_! We're in the middle of a _bookshop_-"

"Let me know when you're leaving, we can talk then. I have several things to buy, but I'll be quick." She was true to her word, and they both left Flourish and Blotts to find somewhere to eat. Hermione had not spent time in the wizarding community for a while; she had been on the run from the Snatchers with Harry last year and then was cooped up in Hogwarts all last summer, until now. Nearly every face turned to them as they walked by, some people murmuring their names and others outright thanking them for what they had done. Hermione pulled Harry down a side alley and into a more deserted street to avoid the attention.

Once they had found a restaurant that was tucked away into another alleyway and ordered their food, she asked him quietly, "How much do you know?" She bit into a lightly buttered piece of bread. It was rather good, despite the dingy ambience of the restaurant causing her to suppose that it would be otherwise. They were the only ones in the old restaurant cramped with small round tables. The walls were made of dark wooden paneling and decorated with paintings of dragons swooping in and out of the frames.

"I know what Ginny told me. You're… seeing Snape?" he asked, as though still in disbelief. When she nodded, he continued, trying to stay calm, "Don't you think it's… strange? I mean, he's your teacher. And it's _Snape_, Hermione."

She hadn't known what reaction to expect from him – she had figured he would most likely be outraged, despite the debt he owed to Snape – but she hadn't considered he would be composed while talking about it. "I know he has been awful in the past, but you of all people should know why."

"So you know about him and my mum?"

"Yes, I do." She hadn't realized how awkward bringing itup would be. Here she was, falling in love with a man that had been completely love-struck with her best friend's mother. "Don't you forgive him?"

"I do," he said hastily. "It's just… six years of suffering is difficult to forget." They both sat back in silence as the waiter delivered their salads, and bent back together when he had left. After some time, Harry said, "Ginny's upset you haven't spoken to her."

"Well, she should have known what was going to happen if she was going to be a sneak," Hermione rebuked.

He waited a while before adding, "Well, you did tell McGonagall about my Firebolt, remember? That was a mean thing to do."

"A _broomstick_ is rather different than a relationship," she scoffed, even though she was afraid of him being cross with her too. She'd missed him a lot the last few months. "And besides, it _could_ have been jinxed."

Their main course was brought to their table, and when the waiter left Harry looked up at her furtively, as though he had a question that he wanted to ask but didn't think she would like to hear. "Do you call him Severus?" he asked, teasing.

"Not directly, no. I haven't worked up the courage," she responded, a little indignantly before she blushed. "And don't make fun, he's charming, and… rather sweet," she began, before Harry interrupted.

"Charming and sweet? Those are the last adjectives I would have ever have used to describe Snape."

"He's a changed man. Well, around me that is…." Her thoughts trailed away as she nibbled her baked cod.

"I just don't enjoy the thought of you two… snogging." He acted as though there was a bad taste in his mouth. "Er… that _is _all you do, right?"

She blushed profusely. "Of course; who do you think I am? You're quite audacious to be asking. And you and Ginny, do you do more than snog?"

He blushed as well. "No, no… we barely see each other these days. But I do think that once she's out of school, we'll be moving in together."

"That's great!" she said halfheartedly. Hermione tried to look happy, but she thought about her own plans.

"Do you know where you're going to live this summer?"

"No," she said quietly. "We… haven't talked about it."

"Well, if you don't have anywhere to go you know you can always camp out at my flat."

"Please, don't ever use the verb 'camp' in jest," she joked bitterly. "We've done enough of that for a lifetime." He laughed, and she was relieved to see some of the tiredness lifted from his face. "I've missed you a lot, Harry. Please, try to write me some more."

He chuckled again. "Between carrying letters back and forth from Ginny to me and then to the Ministry, my owl's going to collapse in a year or two. But I'll try."

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"Now, add the ground quills to the potion," he said patiently, one finger on the thin script of the leather-bound volume as he read down the page. Hermione shook some white power into the brew and watched it boil madly, shooting sparks into the air. Snape looked upwards, realized what she had done, and before she knew it he had pulled her under the work table as sparks ricocheted off of the stone walls of his chambers, making loud pops as they hit a surface. She pulled her feet in and let him wrap his arms around her, a fountain of embers raining down all around them.

After the explosion subsided, he slowly drawled, "_Quills_, Miss Granger, not _whitlow_." She blushed before crawling out from under the table, looking up at the melted cauldron and ruined supplies, and then began to laugh.

"I'm so sorry! That was dreadful, and I've managed to ruin your things... But could you imagine what they would have thought if I'd done _that _during my N.E.W.T.s?"

He gave two low chuckles, as though creating the sound was foreign to him and required extra effort, and then looked at the silver lump of pewter. "You would surely have caught everyone's exam on fire, considering you made short work of my best pewter cauldron."

"I'm _really_ sorry," she said sincerely, pulling out her wand and clearing the mess from the table. Several other ingredients in their bowls had caught on fire and were reduced to ash, and others continued to burn.

Snape extinguished the flames and grumbled, "That was the last of my whitlow."

Trying to win back his favor, she suggested, "We can always go out and collect more, if you like." She took the bowls to his sink and washed them out carefully. When she turned around she realized he had left the room and was rummaging through the closet in his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" she asked, standing in the doorway.

"Taking your offer," he explained, pulling a Firebolt from his closet.

Hermione edged away from him suspiciously. "What do you mean?"

"You know very well we can't Apparate out of Hogwarts, and the doors to the school are locked. McGonagall would be alerted if they were opened; so we will fly. Now," he said, turning to her and smirking, "would you prefer to steer, or-"

"You're not really going to make me get on that thing, are you? I hate flying," she explained, a disdainful look on her face. "And really, right now? Surely there is a better time-"

"The whitlow for the potion requires it to be picked by moonlight. Also, I doubt you've ever flown with someone as experienced as I."

A little melodramatically, she asked, "You'll kill me because I ruined your cauldron?"

"Do you not trust me to keep you safe?" he inquired calmly.

At her silence he mounted the broom and reached for her hand, placing it on his waist and waiting for her to climb on behind him. After some reluctance, she stepped towards him.

"I never took you for a Quidditch enthusiast," she teased.

"The Dark Lord ensured we had the appropriate tools for the night Mr. Potter was being transferred to the Weasleys in secret, and so I was left with this. If you sit there, my cape will be in your way," he remarked, untying it before placing it over her shoulders and fastening it around her neck, even though it was rather large for her. "Now, you won't chill."

Once both her hands had met against his stomach and she had tucked her thighs around him, she felt the jerk of the broom as they left the ground, their feet dangling only inches above stone as they hovered.

"And how are we getting out of the castle?" she asked doubtfully, her voice strained.

"Through the window," he explained, pulling out his wand, pointing it at the small area of paned glass over his bed and rocketing towards it. Hermione screamed; it appeared as though they would hit the wall, but the window magically opened and enlarged just enough for them to squeeze through.

They gained altitude quickly as the cool breeze threw her hair back over her shoulders. Even though she still didn't feel safe a bit of exhilaration filled her as they climbed into the sky and swirled around the castle once, its windows full of light. She held on tighter as they passed over a part of the forest and then the lake, his cape whipping back and forth behind her as the night wind caught it.

"How far away?" she yelled.

"Not far." They quickly flew beyond the area she knew of, past many isolated forests and lakes until the ground became scrub-like. They headed south and west towards the highlands, flying low between the peaks which eclipsed the moon from time to time. Once or twice they passed over the headlights of a lone car traveling the roads which seemed to lead nowhere.

After what felt like the longest time they finally slowed and landed on the rocky slope of a hillside. She dismounted first, her legs shaking from the fear of flying and the weakness it caused her – she hadn't been on one in ages.

Snape held the broomstick up and smirked at her. "Was that so terrible?"

She pulled his cape around her tighter and fixed her hair, saying, "I don't know why you didn't stop sooner, all of the hills look the same."

"Miss Granger, you should know that some things are better experienced rather than bypassed through Apparition. Besides that, rare plants grow in isolated areas, and to be able to collect them requires being knowledgeable of those areas. It is necessary to be somewhat of a Herbologist to be a Potions Master."

"Whoever said I wanted to be a Potions Master?" she asked, turning away and looking down at the ground which was covered in thin grasses and scraggly plants. "Now, what does whitlow look like?"

After a slight pause, he explained, "It stands upright on a short stem which is topped by several small white flowers." He stepped away from her and walked up along the steep hillside, broomstick still in hand and wand out in front of him. Although the moon was bright it didn't allow them the light necessary to find the elusive plant.

She pulled her wand out as well, wondering why he didn't seem keen on helping her, and whispered, "_Lumos_."

"Remember," he said loudly, "the full name of whitlow is 'rock whitlow-grass' because it is generally found in rocky crevices."

After a full twenty minutes of scouring the bleak slopes she found a plant which matched his description and called out, "Is this it?"

Snape slowly walked over and nodded, watching her bend down and pluck half the bunches of flowers. "Leave the rest – it's a rare plant, and it's only just blooming now." He held out a long thin vial which she threaded the stems into. She inquired about his other finds, and he pulled out several other vials, listing off their names as, "Snow Gentian, Alpine Forget-me-nots, and Glaucous Meadow-grass, all very rare and found in very few places other than here. Now, as we have found what we were looking for I think it's time to go."

They mounted the broom and sped away, leaving the ground far below them as Snape smoothly directed their movement into the sky. The return journey felt shorter than the initial voyage had, and was somewhat enjoyable even though Hermione reveled most in the feel of firm ground beneath her feet. He stored the Firebolt in his closet before turning towards her and unfastening the cloak from around her neck.

"Thank you," she mumbled tiredly, walking away from him and into the living room. She noticed as she gathered her belongings that the room still smelled of ash, and she guilty watched as Snape walked past the mess to store the vials on the countertop.

"They have to dry naturally and then you can ground them to use in your potion," he explained, walking over towards her and leading her to the door. He kissed her a little stiffly before she left, making her wonder what was wrong. She supposed it was the explosion she had caused, even though he had seemed content enough when making her fly across Scotland with him. What went wrong?


	9. Over Fifty Years Ago

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione was more worried than usual for the end of the year examinations. She usually worked herself into a bundle of raw nerves, but at least she knew that there would be another year for good impressions, another year of studies to make her a better witch. But this year was the final year to prove herself, and she didn't want to slip up. Besides that, she hadn't yet seriously thought about turning in any applications for interning or even starting positions.

She sent an owl to the Ministry for some paperwork concerning internships, and in return received a large packet which had to be carried by an eagle-owl because of its weight. Inside were many forms from different departments that wished to recruit her. Hermione pulled Crookshanks into her lap as she sat on her bed, leafing through the papers. Magical Law Enforcement Squad? She didn't feel like risking her life like that ever again. Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures? She hadn't taken Care of Magical Creatures in years, and so she couldn't possibly get the internship. She laid down the papers and sighed. Maybe there would be an opening at Flourish and Blotts for a book specialist. But if she worked in Diagon Alley, she would never see Snape except for on the weekends, and maybe not even then…. After weighing her options, she decided upon an internship with the Junior Assistant to the Minister of Magic. It was the highest offer she had been given, and if she didn't like it she could probably transfer into different departments until she found one more suited to her interests.

She needed three recommendations to apply, and quickly considered her options. She would normally have asked McGonagall, but didn't think that she would ever be asking any favors from her. Snape didn't really seem to be an option, either. If anyone ever learned about their relationship – which was bound to happen – the recommendation would be voided. That left Professor Flitwick, who would certainly be most obliged, and Professor Sprout, who had always been very kind to her. Perhaps Mr. Weasley would be able to put in a word for her as well. It shouldn't be difficult to get the position anyway considering how well she knew Kingsley, who was now the Minister of Magic. Hermione laid back on her bed and stared at the ceiling. _But where would Snape fit into all this?_

_._

_._

_._

Several days later Hermione sat curled up in Snape's lap, her head on his shoulder and his hand trailing across her knee as he consoled her. "You mustn't worry. Someone whose talent is as well known as yours will not go unsought."

"Well, I don't know _what _it is I want to do. If I'm not given any offers and I have to decide for myself… how should I decide?"

"You should feel lucky that your decision was not thrust upon you. Your options are unlimited."

She closed her eyes and thought of his childhood; she knew what he meant by his words. She remembered something, pursed her lips and frowned. "You promised me you would tell me about your mother, and you still haven't."

"You hardly seemed interested anymore," he taunted, his black eyes watching her as she grew slightly more frustrated.

She scoffed at him. "Of course I'm interested, I just haven't thought about asking."

After a few moments he asked, "Where is it that you would like to start?"

Hermione pulled away and knelt on the cushion, sitting on her heels. "What you do mean?"

"I have collected her memories already, Miss Granger. In what order would you like to view them?"

"From the beginning," she said, standing up and following him to the table in the kitchen upon which he placed the Pensieve. Snape held her hand, both looking into the others' eyes before they bent over into the cool liquid of the Pensieve.

The first thing Hermione noticed was how blurry the memory was. She rubbed her eyes with her hands, wondering whether it was only her vision, but it remained as foggy as before. Hermione thought that perhaps it meant that the memory was an old one, which it soon proved to be. She sat beside Snape upon a bench in a compartment in the Hogwarts Express, two little girls with black hair sitting opposite the other and looking out the foggy window. The silence between them was thick, but Hermione assumed that they were both first years – they looked very young – and their thoughts were probably consumed with the Sorting ceremony and the school itself.

The train bounced up and down on the tracks a little before settling back to its normal pace, the trees whipping past the windows as they sped through forests. Hermione watched as the girl on the right, Eileen, sat back in her seat, folded her hands in her lap, and looked over her companion. She was wearing a black wool pea coat and a matching black skirt, black shoes, and grey socks pulled up to her knees, and looked the part of an upper middle class schoolgirl. She wasn't very pretty, but rather thin with hair like her son's and thick black eyebrows. The other girl sat back as well, and Hermione was startled when she realized that it was Moaning Myrtle, dressed in somewhat shabbier Muggle clothes. She looked up at Snape, a questioning look in her eyes, as she thought about it. Myrtle died over 55 years ago – had Eileen Prince really been her contemporary?

"What year is it?" she asked.

"1941."

She figured that the age made sense, if it was 1941. Eileen and Myrtle were both 11, so that means Snape's mother would have been… 30, when he was born in 1960.

"I like your shoes," said Eileen, sitting upright and at the edge of her seat.

The spectacled girl twirled one of her pigtails with her finger, as though slightly cautious about her, and then said, "My name's Myrtle."

"Mine's Eileen," she replied excitedly. "Do you know what house you want to be in, at Hogwarts?"

Myrtle shook her head. "What are 'houses'?"

Eileen was taken aback. "You don't know?"

"I'm the only witch in my family," she said, a little woefully. "My mum and my dad don't know anything about it, and I don't really think that they like it. They told me that the only reason they're letting me come here is because of the war; Professor Dippet told them I would be safe at Hogwarts."

"The Second Great Muggle War?" asked Eileen. "I've heard about that. Muggles have been killing each other in London."

"What's a _Muggle_?" Myrtle asked.

"You know, a person who can't do magic," Eileen explained.

"The Blitz?" Hermione asked, watching Snape nod.

"It had only just ended in May," he said softly, not taking his eyes from the conversation.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste. "And the wizarding community didn't care?"

"Muggles can't fight our wars, so we won't fight theirs."

An awkward silence fell over the compartment, but Eileen quickly said, "Well, I come from a long line of witches and wizards, and they told me everything about Hogwarts. There are four houses, and at the Welcoming Feast we all get sorted into different houses based on the kind of people we are. Gryffindor is where the brave go, and Slytherin is where the ambitious go. Hufflepuff is-"

Myrtle snickered at the name. "Hufflepuff?"

Eileen blushed a little – she didn't see anything wrong with it. "Yes, Hufflepuff. My mum says everyone in it's really nice, but my dad says they're all daft. I want to be in Ravenclaw – they're the intelligent ones. I like to read, and I read a whole lot more this summer just so I could be up to par with the rest of them."

"How do we get sorted? I don't really know which house I'd want to be in, and I wouldn't want to choose incorrectly."

Eileen began explaining about the ceremony when a young witch with square glasses and hair tied back poked her head into the compartment. Hermione had to contain a giggle – Minerva McGonagall was easily recognizable despite the lack of wrinkles and graying hair because of her trademark disapproving look. "We're approaching the castle soon, and I would advise you to change into your robes." Hermione caught the flash of a shiny Prefect's badge as she slid the door shut behind her.

"She's barely changed," she whispered to Snape.

"Authority has always suited her, as much as anything could," he murmured back.

Time had passed, for when she looked back at the girls they had changed into their black robes and were chatting as though they were old friends. The train slowed, the sky outside was black, and Myrtle began twisting her finger around her pigtail again anxiously.

"Do you... do you want to see something neat?" asked Eileen. By the sound of her voice she was nervous about arriving as well.

"Maybe," Myrtle replied, leaning back into her seat as though afraid of what she meant.

"Well, watch this!" she told Myrtle, as though she had never shown anyone before. She closed her eyes as though concentrating strongly. Her hair grew longer, of its own accord, and curled in small delicate ringlets at the ends.

"Ooh!" squealed Myrtle in delight. "How come you can do that?"

"My mum told me I'm a Metamorphmagus, which means I can change my appearance when I want. It's not really common," she said, boasting slightly. "But my mum told me not to change my appearance while I'm here. Professor Dippet sent my parents a letter telling them it would be distracting. It's not proper for a young lady anyway," she said, flattening out her robes and lacing her fingers together.

"Your mother's a _Metamorphmagus?_" Hermione whispered quickly as the train and two girls vanished around them.

"I am sure you noticed how different she looked between the time she met my father and when she became sick."

"I assumed it was her illness, not-"

"Prince, Eileen," called out a melodic voice which Hermione immediately realized belonged to Dumbledore. He stood in front of the mass of new students, a scroll in his thin hands. He must have been Deputy Headmaster during Dippet's time and so performed the same duties as McGonagall had when she was in that position. The Great Hall was lit up for the feast, the houses clearly defined into their long tables, ghosts soaring among the clouds below the ceiling, candles hovering above the shining plates and silverware. No one in the crowd seemed very familiar, although she did discover the presence of a timid, oversized half-giant sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table on a large stool.

Eileen shyly walked through the crowd and sat down, Dumbledore placing the Sorting Hat on her head and waiting for its judgment. Hermione could hear the old hat's words as though it was on her own head even though she was standing against the wall near the Slytherin table. Perhaps it was because she was seeing things as Eileen had, for it _was _her memory.

"You have a brilliant mind, a very _rare _sort of mind. You are slightly proud, but kind. There is an undercurrent of aspiration to you, and I can feel that you will be working hard to prove yourself here. And the best place for that is… Ravenclaw!" The houses all politely clapped as she, shaking, found her seat.

The Great Hall disappeared and the walls were replaced by gigantic dusty bookshelves. She stood with Snape beside several study tables, and saw both Eileen and Myrtle sitting at one in front of them. They were taking notes from their second year Herbology textbook when a tall boy walked past the table, through Hermione's left shoulder, and towards the back of the library. Eileen looked up and watched him as she continued to write out a few more lines, and Hermione wondered what it was that made him catch her eye. The boy looked around the library to make sure no one was watching him before he darted under the rope and into the Restricted Section. Eileen put down her quill and stood up.

"What's the matter?" asked Myrtle, tearing her eyes from her work.

"I'm going to use the restroom," she said, waiting for her friend to return to her book before quietly walking through the maze of tall bookcases. She pretended to be interested in a lower shelf so that she could peek past the roped-off area, but was unable to see the boy. She decided to find out what he was doing, and so darted underneath the cord as he had. She was silently walking down the aisles, intent on finding him, when she froze at the feeling of a wand pressed against the middle of her back.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed, pushing her shoulder so she stood against a bookcase and faced him. He towered above her, and even though her shock was evident she also blushed at his proximity and handsomeness.

"You s-shouldn't be here. You don't have a n-note," she stuttered, flattening herself against the wooden shelves.

He dropped his hand to his side and scoffed, "Who are you, the librarian? Besides, you shouldn't be here either."

"Well, what are you doing?" she asked, eyeing his dark green tie and Prefect's badge.

"I am researching, and it would be best for you if you left me alone. I could easily report you," he said coolly.

"What are you researching?" She didn't seem wavered by his threats, and instead became more obstinate.

"What is your name?" he questioned, pulling away from her.

"Eileen Prince."

His hand went up to his neatly combed hair to flatten it even more. "Are you a Pureblood?" She nodded, and he looked over her with a scrutinizing glance. "Has any of your family been in Slytherin house before?"

"My father and my grandfather both were Slytherins, although I'm not sure about the rest of my family."

He looked her over again with his cold dark eyes, as though making a difficult decision. "Perhaps I will tell you someday, but not now."

"I won't tell anyone, I swear!"

"You swear?" he mocked harshly, pacing the dark carpet of the library. "You mustn't get into the habit of swearing to things you couldn't even begin to understand." She felt rather uncomfortable with his severity and the tone of superiority he took with her, but was mostly angered that he was so quick to belittle her intelligence.

"I may only be a second year, but I'm smarter than half your Slytherin lot," she retorted, standing up straighter. "If you don't want my help, then I'll just go-"

"Perhaps you would be able to help me after all." He waited until he had her full attention before adding, "However, you cannot tell anyone about what we discuss."

"I promise," she said quickly, unsure what it was that made her want to help him. He _was _rather handsome, but it was more than that. He was an older student – a _Prefect_ – who could use her help, and the thought filled her with pride.

"I am searching for something that Salazar Slytherin has left in the school," he explained, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stood half a foot from her. "You do know what his symbol is, don't you?"

"A snake," she answered, as though being drilled.

"Yes, very good. A wizard – a powerful one – will always mark places of importance with his own symb-"

"Tom, what are you doing here?" Snape and Hermione, who were intently watching them, turned quickly to see Minerva walking in their direction. Eileen felt the boy reach his hand around her wrist and, for one fleeting moment, thought he would pull her to run.

However, he stepped away from her, her arm now outstretched, and said, "Ah, Minerva. I had just found her hiding in here and was about to deduct points for this misbehavior."

Eileen opened her mouth in shock, turned red, and pried her hand from his. "I did not-"

"No matter to do so, Tom." Minerva's voice was thick with obvious hatred towards the boy who seemed rather pleased with himself. "Five points will be taken from Ravenclaw. Leave this area at once, and do not return unless you have a note signed by a professor. Do you understand?"

Eileen nodded and left without looking up at either of the Prefects. As she left the room Snape slowly turned to Hermione and said, "We shall save more for another time," pulling them both out of the Pensieve and into his chambers.

"Your mother knew Voldemort, when he was here?" she asked in disbelief.

"More than knew," he responded, putting the basin away. "There is much more to see, but you will have to restrain yourself until tomorrow. Now-"

"She was also a Metamorphmagus – why didn't you tell me? And I can't believe Myrtle… and McGonagall, too!"

"Yes, Miss Granger, I am fully aware," he drawled, lighting the fireplace with his wand.  
"However, as I said before, some things must be _shown _to be understood. I could not simply tell you that the Dark Lord had enlisted my mother to help him find Salazar Slytherin's hidden chamber – you would have failed to understand her innocent motives. Many people were easily swayed by his words, professors and students alike." He walked towards his armchair and she followed him, watching as he stood behind it and placed his hands on the back. He looked away from her and into the grate of the fireplace. "It is rather late, and therefore you need not leave. If you like, you can sleep here tonight. I can summon your things." His proposal had the intended effect on her, for he smirked as she nodded, unable to speak. "Good. Your bags should be down soon enough." He flicked his wand towards the door and then left her standing behind the couch as he entered his bedroom.

She climbed over the back of the couch and plopped down on the cushions, laying on her back and looking up at the ceiling. She then closed her eyes, listening to the crackle of the fire and the hissing of the shower. The fabric of the couch smelled just like Snape, if she pressed the bridge of her nose against it. A while later the door to the dungeon hall swung open as her bags floated into the room and settled on the stone floor. Hermione stood up and closed it, noticing as she did that Snape had finished his shower and stood in the doorframe in his grey nightshirt.

"May I take my shower now?" asked Hermione, leaning down to pick up her belongings.

"Of course," he answered, watching her avert his eyes and blush as she passed him while crossing the threshold of his bedroom. She took a quick shower, enjoying the pressure of the hot water on her back and shoulders. All of the fixtures in his bathroom were rather old but of good quality, the showerhead broad and the shower itself spacious. There was a small sconce above the bathtub which flickered with light, but otherwise the small room was dark and peaceful. She dried her hair with a quick spell, put on her red nightdress, and left the bathroom.

Hermione closed the door behind her and made to leave the bedroom when Snape asked quietly, "Where are you going?" He was reading in bed, the lamp on the bedside table turned on, and a space to his left on the bed. A space for her.

Speechless, she placed her bags on the floor, tucked them neatly against the wall, and walked up to the side he had designated as hers. _Hers_. She pulled away the smooth black covers and slid in, lying down against the pillows and turning to face him. He had watched her, smirked as she looked up at him, and then turned to his book again. She brushed her fingers along his arm and closed her eyes, in disbelief that she was lying in his bed. He turned a page and sighed, and she could feel him rearranging his legs under the sheets.

Hermione yawned and pulled the covers to her neck, exhilarated beyond words but still exhausted from a long day of classes. Snape closed his book and turned out the light, and Hermione felt his arms wrap around her torso. He peppered her face with kisses as she smiled and brought her knees up to her chest. His fingers traced the length of her smooth calves and then moved up to her bushy hair, petting it back so it was out of her face. She did the same with his mess of black hair, resting her slightly sweaty palm on the back of his forearm while burying her face in his chest. She could barely hear her thoughts above the beating of her heart; how could he possibly expect her to sleep?


	10. Foes and Friends

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione rolled over in bed after waking from a particularly jolting dream. She listened for Snape's breathing but didn't hear it, and a search for his body with her hand proved fruitless, the sheets cool. She sat up and got out of bed – perhaps he was in the bathroom? But the door was open, the light from the sconce on the wall flickering still. She took her wand from the bedside table and held it in front of her for light. Maybe he hadn't been able to sleep? He wasn't in the living area either, and Hermione began to worry a little. Why would he just leave her in the middle of the night?

She sighed and walked back into the bedroom, placing her wand on the table before climbing back into the sheets. After lying on her side for a while she heard the door creak open, click shut, and then watched as he walked into the bedroom. He placed his wand on the table and slid into bed, making an effort not to disturb her. When he had settled in and began drifting off Hermione ran her hand along the buttons which lined the front of his nightshirt.

"Where have you been?" she asked, obviously confused.

He turned on his side and frowned. "I didn't wake you when I came in, did I?"

"No, I woke up and you weren't here. Where did you go?"

Their faces were only a few inches apart, and as she played with his buttons he brushed his thumb along the side of her cheek and cupped her jaw with his palm. "Minerva appointed me to the night shift for patrolling the corridors."

"Oh. Do all professors share that duty?"

He gave a single mocking laugh. "Of course not. Minerva herself will only patrol four times a month. The rest of the nights are divided between me and whoever else she is disapproving of at the moment." She frowned and then yawned a little, causing Snape to sigh, draw away, and say, "Now go back to sleep."

Hermione nodded and curled up next to him, and as he turned onto his back she placed her hand on his stomach, feeling it rise and fall. She didn't fall asleep as easily as he did, and listened to his soft snores and even breathing for a long time.

.

.

.

She turned over in the bed in the morning and heard him groan as he woke up too. They both yawned, and Hermione watched as he ran his hands through his hair and then stretched his arms, dropping them at his sides. Hermione nearly laughed - it was so strange to see Severus Snape yawning. It was such a simple thing, but so odd for her to see him at his most vulnerable, with no walls to separate him from her any longer.

She sat up and pulled his left arm into her lap, pushing back the sleeve. Hermione had never fully seen his forearm so close, and stared at the nearly translucent skin and bright blue veins underneath. With her fingers she delicately traced his Dark Mark, which had dulled into a bruise-like, sickly light green scar. She could hear Tom Riddle's words in her head as she did. _A wizard – a powerful one – will always mark places of importance with his own symbol…._

"Did you sleep well?" His voice was thicker, deeper, than usual.

"Yes, fine." Snape sat up as well and gently kissed her on the lips. He smirked before pulling his forearm from her and getting out of bed. She rolled out as well, tucking the covers over the pillows before going to use the lavatory and changing into a set of simple black robes. It was the weekend, but she couldn't imagine wearing anything remotely Muggle-like around Snape.

After she had brushed her teeth and hair she opened the door of the bathroom to find him buttoning up a white collared shirt. She was sure that Severus Snape would wear the same outfit every day, no matter the occasion. Hermione went out and sat on the couch, and before long Snape was making tea for both of them.

He sat down in his armchair and watched her, noticing her furrowed brow and thin mouth. "You seem worried," he said, frowning.

She sipped her sweetened white tea and nodded. "I am. I still don't know what I'm going to do about leaving… here. It's just difficult to imagine myself somewhere else, is all." She smiled and then looked away, studying the small bookcase next to the fireplace. "I mean, I did submit an application for an internship with Shacklebolt's Junior Assistant, and they accepted me within the week."

"And you accepted their offer?"

"I haven't yet."

He smirked slightly. "What is stopping you?"

The silence hung between them for a long time; she knew that he was teasing her as he always did, but his teasing made her want to burst into tears. It was all she could do to not yell at him. "You _know _what is stopping me." She looked so pitiful that his smirk immediately left his face, and he ran his fingers along his sharp chin in thought.

"Perhaps… I could offer you something here, with me…. I had thought of it before, but you showed such active disinterest that I quickly let go of the idea."

"_Active disinterest?_" she asked, shrilly. She now faced him fully, perched on the edge of her seat. "I don't recall a single moment-"

"When we were out collecting whitlow," he began loudly, before lowering his voice, "you made it quite clear you weren't interested in any sort of position concerning potion-making. If I can remember the exact words correctly, they were, 'Whoever said I wanted to be a Potions Master?'"

Her face went white. "Well, I wasn't in a v-very good mood that evening, considering you made me ride on a _broomstick _across Scotland in the middle of the night when it was _freezing _outside." He pressed his lips together in a fashion that was altogether McGonagall-esque, and she knew her excuse wasn't a very good one. "I mean, I shouldn't have said it – I really didn't mean it. But even if I did take the position, won't it be a little suspect when people start asking questions about us? 'Why did you choose him as your mentor? What sparked your interest in Potions? How could you possibly enjoy being in the company of Professor Snape for any length of time?' They'll certainly know we're together, everyone would know…."

Snape stood up and paced in front of the fireplace. "Hermione, you couldn't be so naïve as to think that two people haven't been in our situation before."

She looked down, embarrassed. "Everyone knows who I am. Everyone knows who you are. It is not so simple…"

He ran his hands through his hair before placing them on the arm of the couch, looking down at her. "Did you not think of this before telling me you cared for me?"

She bit her bottom lip and thought for a few minutes that were heavy with silence. "Where… where would I live?"

"In a castle the size of Hogwarts, room and board will not be difficult to come by."

Hermione looked up at him impatiently. Didn't he know that all she wanted in the world was him? She put her head in her hands and sighed. "What work can a Potions Master find?" she asked quietly.

"There are many possible paths. Teaching, research, Healing, Ministry work if nothing else." After another silence he knelt down beside her. "You still seem upset."

She shook her head without looking at him. "No, no, I'm fine. It's just, I never saw myself in that field because I assumed it was something you needed a natural knack for, which I don't know that I have."

"You have made a fair amount of progress the past several months with my guidance. I am certain that, given time, your capabilities will flourish." He stood up again, uncharacteristically restless. "However, I will not accept you if you don't truly believe that your future lies within the realm of Potions. A career should be chosen upon a combination of both skills and interests, and not because someone expects it of you."

"Well, I…." For some reason, she could not speak. She just really wasn't very sure, and he was putting her on the spot to make a decision that was not easy.

"I retract my offer, in that case." He gulped down the rest of his tea and walked towards the back of the room.

Hermione stood up, her heart sitting at the bottom of her stomach, and she knew in that moment that she had been waiting for this very offer for the longest time. Why did she _always _let her fear of being wrong get in the way? She said loudly, "But you can't! I want… I want to accept it."

"Sit down, Miss Granger."

She did not sit, but instead walked up to him and drew herself up to her full height, her brown eyes burning into his dark ones. "I _am_ sure. I want to be your apprentice, more than anything." She continued to stare up at him, adding, "And don't act as though it doesn't mean anything to you that I chose you – your indifference hurts me more than you know."

"I am hardly indifferent to what you choose." He placed one of his hands beneath her jaw, running his thumb over her chin. "You are _sure_?" he asked, the corner of his lip curling upwards.

Hermione nodded, her eyes blurring from tears. "Yes, yes I am." He pressed his nose to her forehead and kissed the space between her eyebrows, taking her hand in his free one. "Deciding your future is not easy; we must commemorate the occasion. Would you dine with me this evening? Somewhere other than Hogwarts, of course…."

A dinner-date with Severus Snape? Hermione's stomach was bubbling over with pleasure, anxiety, and disbelief. "I-I'd love to." She didn't think she would ever be able to speak correctly when he kissed her, and melted even more when a tear dropped from her right eye and he brushed it away with his thumb. Hermione pulled away, wiped both her eyes with the sleeve of her robe, and leaned back towards his chest. He allowed her to wrap her arms around him and reciprocated lightly.

After she let go he placed a hand on the work table and listened to the creaking of the wood. "Perhaps we can spend some more time with my mother's memories? Afterwards, I suggest you begin studying for your exams-"

"I already have started," she said quickly, almost defensively. "But yes, I would like to." She watched as he retrieved the Pensieve again, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him as she bent over, back into the past.

Eileen sat in the library at her usual table, tucked between a large window offering a view of the lake and separated from the Restricted Section by a few bookcases. A small ladybug was lying on its back on the wooden table in front of her, and she poked it with her wand to see if it was still alive. It waved its legs around frantically, hoping for some purchase, and stopped when Eileen quickly withdrew. She twisted her wand and the ladybug flew up into the air and fell back to the table with a clatter – it had been transfigured into a pin. However, a pair of antennae still wiggled around near where the head had been, and she sighed deeply.

Hermione noticed Tom out of the corner of her eye. He had been watching Eileen for some time, evidently, and he took the chance in the deserted library to surprise her. She looked on as Tom quietly walked between the bookshelves and then darted out, sitting down in the chair opposite Eileen and dropping the books he had in his arms on the table, causing her to jump in her seat.

"Do you _ever _leave the library?" he sneered.

She crossed her arms and frowned, exclaiming quietly, "Go away!"

He smirked at her. "I don't know what I did to make you so angry with me."

"I lost House points because you tricked me! You're an _awful_ person!" Her gaze went from his eyes to his Slytherin tie, and then to the books he had been reading. _Magick Moste Evile_?_ The Lost Legacy_? _Salazar Slytherin: His Philosophy and its Application_?

"You don't even know the half of it." He seemed quite pleased with himself, and it only made her dislike him more. "However, I do need your help."

"Why do you want _me _to help you? Surely there's someone else who would rather-"

"Ah, but _you _came to _me_," he said coolly. "You can't deny that." After waiting for her retort and not getting one, he continued. "Are you familiar with the legend of this school?"

She shook her head. "Nothing more than the four founders."

"Ah. But you have certainly heard of the dispute between Salazar Slytherin and the rest? No? Well, Slytherin wished to only teach those worthy to learn magic – Purebloods. The others were angry, and Slytherin knew he had lost the fight with them and so left Hogwarts. However," he continued, lowering his voice, "he did not leave without first ensuring that, one day, his wishes had the potential of being filled. He had built a chamber in the heart of the school that housed a monster."

"A monster?" she whispered, horrified.

"Yes, and one that can only be controlled by a descendent – an heir, if you will – of Slytherin himself."

"What can it do?" she gulped. "C-can it kill people?"

"What else would its purpose be?" he asked. Hermione felt a chill run up her spine. He was speaking about this so nonchalantly. Even at that age, a mere fifth year, he was more arrogant than she could bear. He spoke about death as though it was nothing… and yet to him, its evasion would mean everything. "Now," he began, reaching into his school bag, "I have written everything that I've learned about Slytherin and the chamber in this journal." Hermione recognized the leather-bound volume at once – it was his first Horcrux, the diary that had possessed Ginny. "I just need to find out where it is."

"Why?"

"To enter it, of course," he said, rolling his eyes at her and flattening his hair.

"But you couldn't possibly-"

"The purpose is to finish Slytherin's noble work. I had hoped you would have wanted to solve a mystery that is at the very foundation of Hogwarts – literally." He paused, looking around to see if anyone was nearby. His eyes eerily looked right into Hermione's before he continued, "Now, I had assumed Slytherin would have built a chamber leading to the common room of his potential heirs, but no luck when I had searched for it. Then, perhaps, I had wondered if he wanted the least distance between his victims and the monster. It's difficult to search the entire school, and then there is the problem of moving the beast around, or what kind of beast it is anyway. There is a lot of speculation-"

"Tom," she said, interrupting him to stop his monologue, "I don't like this at all. It's a terrible idea, and I don't think it's real anyway. Look at the facts – a monster that lives in the bottom of the school, without anything to eat for centuries? It's just not possible!" She picked up _Magick Moste Evile _and started leafing through the pages. "Unforgivable Curses? Necromancy? Lethifolds? Horcruxes? I don't even know what those are!"

"Horcruxes?" he asked, wrenching the old dusty volume from her hands. Eileen had enough; she took the strange creature she had transfigured and slipped it into her pocket, standing up and gathering her things to leave. "Your name is Eileen, right? Eileen Prince?" he asked, looking up from the book. She paused a moment and nodded, wondering what would even cause him to think about that. He tried his best to grin, but could only pull off a strange sort of leer. "You seem more like a _Princess _to me." Hermione could tell he was lying through his teeth, and not even well, but it did have its intended effect on Eileen. She did not seem so angry or impatient anymore and started to blush profusely. She bit her bottom lip but, as though he had never said anything, turned on her heel and left.

Tom Riddle faded from view and was replaced by Eileen, again studying by herself in the same spot she had before. She looked up, a puzzled expression on her face, towards the back of the library. Hermione couldn't see anything and instead listened closely, hearing what distinctly sounded like someone sniffling. Eileen stood up and walked down the aisle of bookcases cautiously, curious but not interested in any more trouble for herself. Hermione and Snape both walked close behind. Eileen peered around the corner before stepping towards a very large boy, his hands covering his face as he cried in a corner formed by two massive bookcases.

"Excuse me," she said, although he didn't hear her above his bawling. "Who are you?" she asked a little louder.

He put his hands down immediately as though caught in a terrible act, his face wet with tears and his small eyes red. "R-Rubeus H-H-Hagrid," he said, terrified. It was strange for Hermione to see Hagrid without a substantial amount of facial hair and smaller than she was used to, but he was still recognizable.

"No, no, don't worry – I won't tell anyone you're crying." She knelt down next to him, pulling a handkerchief out of her blouse and handing it to him. Hermione noticed his hands were already massive, and even though he was sitting on the floor – no seats were large enough for him to sit in to study – he was still much taller than Eileen. "But, why are you crying?"

He blew his nose, and she gestured for him to keep the handkerchief when he tried to hand it back. "It's jus' - it's jus' - I can' learn nothin'. I'm failin' my classes an' me dad wouldn've liked ter see me fail." Unfortunately, he didn't realize that he had been tearing up the little white square as he spoke, and now it lay in tatters of cloth on his robes.

"He 'wouldn't' have liked?" she asked

"'e died a few months ago, me dad did. I could pick 'im up if I fel' like it. 'e was goin' ter get me a pet fer my birthday, in December. My firs' birthday without 'im, an' I-I-I'm jus' not doin' well with me classes," he blubbered on.

Eileen had a frown on her face, and Hermione, who was standing between her and Hagrid, saw tears forming in her eyes. "Do you know what kind of pet?"

"Er, no. A dog, or cat, or summat o' the sort. Always fancied dragons, though."

She looked as though she was thinking, and she said, "You know, there are lots of books about dragons here in the library."

"Really?"

Eileen nodded and said, "Hold on, I'll go get some." She quickly returned with several books in her arms and pulled up a chair alongside Hagrid. "Look, _Dragon Species of Great Britain and Ireland_." He seemed lit up, and it was quite a sight to see the abnormally large half-giant sitting on the ground, peering over the shoulder of the comparatively miniscule Eileen, the book open in her lap. Dragons zoomed on and off of the pages, breathing fire and making spectacular swoops over forests and alongside mountains. Eileen seemed rather pleased with herself for calming him down. "I'm only a second-year, but I've heard that Professor Kettleburn is really nice. Do you like his class?" He nodded, and she suggested, "Perhaps you could ask him if he needed any help taking care of the animals."

"D'yeh think 'e needs help?"

"I'm sure he would. And I can help you study for your classes, if you like."

"Aren' yeh a secon'-year?"

"I am, but I could still try and help. I don't think the third-year curriculum is too different from ours. And sometimes, you just need a friend to help you."

Hagrid smiled and his little black eyes watered with tears. "I'm gonna go an' talk ter Kettleburn righ' now." He got to his feet, a little top-heavy and swaying precariously as he tried to catch his balance. "Thanks... er... what's yer name?"

"Eileen," she said, standing up and replacing the chair from the table she had borrowed it from. "It was nice to meet you, Rubeus. I hope you feel better."

He turned to leave but suddenly stopped. He looked back down at her and said, "I was jus' wonderin' if I could… er…." He doubled over and hugged her as gently as he could manage, and Hermione smiled at how sweet he was and the comic way that Eileen couldn't get her arms around him anymore than she would have been able to embrace a tree trunk. Snape, however, did not seem too pleased. Hagrid stood up straight and still sniffled a little as he left, his cheeks slightly pink and the dragon book clutched tightly in his hand.

"That's enough for today," Snape said, taking her hand and pulling them out of the Pensieve.

She began to protest but was already back in his chambers. "But we only saw two!"

"Don't be impish," he reprimanded, dropping her hand. "I'm sure you have things to study, now, back to your room!"

"Don't be in such a foul mood. Your mother was so adorable," she said, teasing him and watching him wave his wand to gather her things.

"And so are you," he said, directing her to the door. "You've spent enough of your afternoon with me, you must be hungry. Go find something to eat, and I will meet you in the courtyard at eight o'clock tonight." She nodded, wondering what his hurry was, and figured she had just agitated him. She saw nothing wrong with it – if he was going to tease her, she certainly had the right to reciprocate.


	11. Decadence

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione walked down the marble staircase and into the empty Entrance Hall, past several closed doors, and slipped quietly outside. She wore a long black traveling cloak which was clasped together at the front with a brooch, a cover in case she had run into anyone on the way down. She could see Snape's outline against the dusky sky, his hands clasped together behind his back as he looked out onto the grounds. He turned around at the sound of her small heels softly clacking against the stone and walked towards her under the trees and archways. His hair was tidy, his eyes wandering from her face down to her heels, and she noticed that his outfit had remained the same except for the substitution of a white necktie in place of the usual black. It had little effect to his overall appearance, but to Hermione it meant the world that he would have – even for a second – thought about what he should look like, for her.

"Miss Granger," he said, bowing his head slightly in her direction and taking her arm. Hermione pretended to be interested in the sinking half-moon which hung over the lake, but truthfully had turned her head so she could smile unabashedly.

Her heels sunk a little into the damp earth as they walked down to the gates together, passing Hagrid's brightly lit cabin and the empty Quidditch pitch to their left. It wasn't an easy walk with the wind blowing and causing the branches of the forest to eerily thrash and creak. The wind whipped both of their hair around their faces, which peeved Hermione slightly because of the effort she had put into taming her mass of curls beforehand. Snape pulled out his wand and began muttering a complicated list of rescinding charms and motioning for the great gates to open. They passed the twin statues of the winged boar, and Hermione waited as he reestablished protection upon the entrance.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his hand on hers. Before she could nod she already felt the unsettling nausea which accompanied Apparition. When she opened her eyes she was standing in a fairly busy alley that was reminiscent of Diagon Alley. Groups of witches and wizards strolled past and bells were clanging as doors opened and closed even though it was near quitting time. She noticed a specialty hat shop named Tips & Don, several cafés, and Chiznell's Capes. Snape steered her past a fountain of golden water which shot up from the ground as a geyser would.

"Where are we?" she asked, puzzled.

"Gnomick Alley, London." He led her into a restaurant, the entrance of which a slim, nearly hidden door.

"May I take your cloak?" asked the host, a well-dressed blond man in his twenties. Hermione slid the thick fabric off from around her shoulders and could see Snape struggling slightly to not grin from pleasure. She had worn a green silk cocktail dress, black lace accentuating the bust and two thick straps which made the ensemble even more tasteful. The waiter lead them to their table, and Hermione's first thought was that if any place could be "Snape-ish," this one was. There were many small rooms with only several tables in each one, making for a private dinner considering how empty the building was. The walls were made of layered brick, several fireplaces set under mantles decorated with cauldrons and bottles of all sizes and colors. Portraits of old men who wore white neck ruffs and black hats adorned with feathers hung above the various potions equipment.

After the specials had been listed and their bottle of champagne brought to the table, Snape leaned closer to her. "You are beautiful," he said, watching her turn red and sip from the yellow liquid. "Please, order whatever you like." He unfolded his menu and began to read through the appetizers.

"But, sir, you needn't-"

"Severus," he corrected, without looking up.

Her face turned red again for she was slightly embarrassed, but his kindness was rather charming. She reached for his hand under the white tablecloth and held it tightly.

"Thank you," she told him, "for the apprenticeship, and for tonight. It was very… kind of you," she said carefully, unsure as to whether he would want to be characterized in that way.

He smirked slightly before threading his fingers through hers and saying, "Thank you for accepting my offers."

She ordered the duck with blueberry sauce, and he the roast lamb. They silently ate their salads, listening to the clinking of knives and forks against plates and light chatter from the other rooms. They had never been very good at maintaining small talk, but because they were so comfortable with each other they didn't feel the need to.

After Hermione had finished her salad she asked, "What is the duration of an apprenticeship, generally?"

Severus sat back in his wooden chair and crossed his arms. "It depends on the trade. Becoming a Potions Master requires the student to pass a lengthy examination testing your ability to recognize, neutralize, or create any number of potions as well as identifying ingredients and even knowing some history behind several of the more famous brews. The duration of your education will depend on when you feel comfortable taking the assessment. The average apprentice takes nearly five years, although I am certain you will not require that amount of time."

The main courses arrived, and Hermione savored the richness of the duck and the sweet blueberries which complimented it well. The cooking at Hogwarts was excellent, but it was always soured with the thought of who had made it. She was glad to finally eat a meal without guilt. She forced Severus to try some of the food on her plate, and he in turn sliced some lamb for her. He asked about her classes and she asked about his as they drank their champagne. She was even rewarded with one of his extraordinarily rare grins, even though it only flitted across his face for a moment. Everything about the evening – the clothes, the food, the drink, the conversation – had been decadent, tasteful to the very last detail.

The waiter came to clear their plates and Severus handed him a small green drawstring bag. Hermione could tell from the clinking noise it made that it held metal coins. She took one last sip of her champagne and they left, walking out into the deserted alleyway. It was cooler than before and she drew her long cloak around her, every nerve tingling.

"Look at how bright the stars are!" she exclaimed quietly, peering up into the black sky.

"They'll be brighter when we leave London," he replied. "Are you ready to go?" She nodded and for a moment wished she hadn't eaten such a rich dinner. However, the rushing ended quickly and the only thing she could feel was Severus's arm linked with hers.

"I can't get over the stars," she said to herself. The castle's lights glowed, and she smiled as she realized that it would still be her home for several years to come. A thestral swooped overhead, the pair listening as it hooted and flew out of sight. They approached the castle and snuck inside, down into the dungeons. Hermione stumbled a little, giggling at herself. "Oh, my feet hurt terribly."

"Let me help you off of them, in that case." He picked her up and she laughed, hooking her legs around his back and looking down as his lips caressed her throat. He opened his door, shut it behind them, and sat her on the table, the wood creaking underneath her weight. He ran his hands along her white thighs, stroking the dark green silk of her dress. She pressed her mouth to his and let the black cloak she wore fall from her frame.

"Hermione," he said, his voice hoarse but quiet as he ran his hands along her back. "Wait here." She nodded and folded her hands in her lap, her ankles crossed, as he opened his icebox. Severus rummaged through it, walked up to her, and handed her a glass vial filled with a clear liquid.

"What is it?" she asked, holding it curiously.

"A contraceptive," he responded. She paused, entirely shocked that he would have planned, that he would have thought that tonight would be the night…. He quickly added, "But you needn't – that is, if you don't want to-"

She had never, ever seen him nervous, and even though it stunned her it was also endearing. She ran her hand along his chest, unable to count the number of times she had wanted to revisit what lay beneath, the texture of the muscle, the color of the skin…. The only other time she had seen it had been the day she saved him and wiped the blood from his skin; it felt like years had passed. His eyes scanned her face for her expression, watching and hoping that she wouldn't be angry. The cork made a small popping sound as she pulled it out. After she drank the bitter potion she handed the empty glassware back to Severus and felt his hand cover hers.

"It takes half an hour to have an effect." She nodded, still speechless. "If you like, you could take a shower, or perhaps I could make some tea-"

"Shower," she said, regaining her ability to speak. "I'll go take a shower." She kicked off her shoes and he helped her off of the table, watching as she left the room.

Hermione steamed up the bathroom with the heat of the shower and scrubbed every square inch of her body with a washcloth and soap. She shaved her legs twice, shampooed her hair, and covered herself in lotion once she was out of the shower. She was nervous and frightened; what on earth did she think she was doing? But no, no…. It was time. She _loved _Snape… Severus… every part of him… and she knew it. It was just her fear of the unknown that caused her to wonder if she was making the right choice.

She left the bathroom and found him sitting on his side of the bed. She walked over, her bare feet on the cold stone floor, and climbed up next to him, both of her legs folded under her body.

"You are beautiful," he said, running his fingers across her cheek and through the tangles of her hair. Hermione smiled and looked down at her customary red nightdress. She wished she could give him something sexy, something unexpected, but she couldn't. He caught her eyes and stared into hers, and for some reason she felt that he could read her thoughts. "You are _beautiful_," he repeated, kissing her and letting her hands explore his hair, his ears, his shoulders, and then carefully begin to unknot his necktie. She slid it from around his neck and gently touched the mottled red and white skin with her slender fingers. Those scars were remnants of the wounds she had healed, reminders of the life that he almost lost, the sheer evil which had torn apart the lives of so many but had not, entirely, destroyed his.

She parted her lips and he swept his tongue along the top of her mouth, his hooked nose pressing against her skin. A tingling feeling surged within her and she was surprised that his lips on hers could elicit such a strong sensation somewhere else. She slipped a finger under the top button of his black jacket and slowly began unbuttoning it, kissing his neck lovingly. Severus caressed the soft fullness of the dark hair which hung down her back, then reached down and helped her by working up from the bottom.

Silently, he dropped his jacket and helped her remove his white collared shirt. Her hands were already rushing along his chest before he had even successfully taken it off. It was a little different than she had thought, his chest warmer than she had supposed, smooth but hard. He bent down and took off his long square-toed boots, turned towards her, and pulled his legs up to lie on the bed. Hermione moved towards her part of the bed and lay down on her side, letting him wrap her in his arms and kiss every part of her he could manage. Her hands felt their way around his back as well, feeling the muscles of his neck and shoulders strain as he moved. She smiled and giggled quietly at the tickle of his long hair against her throat. Hermione felt Severus's fingers run along the underside of her thigh and pull at the hem of her dress. She gasped a little and closed her eyes, suddenly losing her wits and feeling paralyzed.

Severus pulled away at the sound of her gasp and laid his hand on her chest at her apparent nervousness. "Hermione, your heart is drumming. What's wrong?" She couldn't speak properly she was so frightened completely out of her senses. She had never really cared for her body, and now it was going to be entirely exposed to the man that she thought was the most difficult to please in the world. Surely, every lump would disgust him…. How could he stand the sight of her thick thighs, her hips which were wider than his? She was sure her movements would be awkward and out of sync with him; she had never done this before. "Have you never…?"

"No." She could still hear her heart beating in her ears. "And you?"

"No," he said simply, whispering, "Just relax."

She nodded and felt his fingers drift over her hips. His hands were by her thighs again, pulling at her dress. She breathed in deeply and helped him pull it away, lying back against his sheets and pillows with only her black knickers on.

His arms were around her again, his nose pressing against her ear. "Your skin is so soft," he remarked, his fingers circling along her shoulder blades and then diving down to her lower back. Severus began to kiss down her neck, her collarbone, and then the top of her bust. He moved over her, putting one knee on either side of her as she turned onto her back. His mouth found her breast, kissing and sucking on the nipple intermittently. Hermione gasped as his hand stroked her ribcage and then moved to her other breast, cupping it and running his fingers over it lightly. Her insides were burning for him, for something that she had never had before.

Severus's mouth was on hers strongly with fervor that she matched. He touched his nose to hers before moving to the side of the bed to stand up and take off his black trousers. She sat up and helped him, running her fingers along his white thighs which were covered with fine black hairs. A thin trail ran from his navel to his grey undergarments which, she noticed, he was in the process of removing as well. Severus sat on the edge of the bed, fully naked, and Hermione decided that it was her turn to gratify him.

Now slightly braver she left the bed and knelt down between his knees, kissing the patch of thick black hair and running her fingers down his calves before taking his member in her hands. It was strangely warm and light as she lifted it to kiss the tip, feeling it harden at her touch. She teased the inside of his thighs with her fingers before lightly grasping his hip with her left hand and slowly stroking his member. Hermione listened to his low moan of pleasure and delighted in it, wanting more and finding him with her lips and then her tongue, sucking with her cheeks to create more pressure.

"Ah… Hermione," he muttered thickly, his thighs quivering slightly and one of his hands sifting through her hair. His hips gave an involuntary jerk before his hands found her shoulders and pushed her away. She drew back, confused; had she done something wrong? His face looked almost pained until he opened his eyes and pulled her towards him, lying back on the bed as she moved over him, his hot member pressing against her thigh. Severus breathed deeply before lightly pushing her onto her side and then her back, kissing her on the lips and moving on top of her. "I want to please you too," he said, his breathing shallow.

His hands moved down her body as he did, cupping her breasts and trailing along her side, causing her to shiver. He knelt on the floor and pulled her body towards him, waiting for her to draw up her knees before his hands caressed the underside of her thigh and then the strong bone of her wide hips. His fingers hooked around the band of her knickers and slid them off. Her heart hammered, waiting for an uncertain sensation as she felt his fingers trace the sensitive skin around her core. His tongue slowly pressed into her and she moaned, her toes curling and her fingers twisting into the blankets. He sucked lightly before removing his tongue and placing a finger on her small bump, listening to her gasps and feeling her body respond as she involuntarily pushed herself towards him. She breathed shallowly, her cheeks flushing deeply as his fingers rubbed back and forth, quicker and with more pressure than before. He would stop, press his mouth over the same area to tease her with his tongue, and then return to using his fingers. At first the feeling wasn't so strong, but she could feel a foreign pressure within her building; she was frightened that his fingers could elicit such a powerful response. Suddenly she pulled away, her fear overcoming her and her heart pounding against her chest more strenuously than it ever had.

"Severus, please," she gasped, her eyes closing. However, his arm found its way around her thigh and pulled her back.

"Trust me," he breathed in return, placing his free hand within hers to comfort her, kissing her thigh as his fingers began their work again and quickly brought her into a state of high-pitched gasping and shaking before the final wave rolled over her. She was in complete ecstasy, her body pitching and trembling as he aided her to draw out her orgasm. Hermione lay panting as Severus's hand strayed across her body and swept along her stomach. "It is a shame that such feelings lay beneath our skin," he murmured, "and we have no way of knowing what true pleasures can be persuaded from it unless shown." He pressed his cheek to her thigh, waiting for her to calm down again before standing up and moving her to the center of the bed. "Are you ready?" he asked, his voice deep and husky, his mouth next to her ear. She nodded, spreading her legs wider and relishing in the feel of his thighs against hers as he positioned himself and slowly entered her. He worked into her softly, continuing even as she cried out from the moment of searing pain, until he was buried entirely in her folds. He gave a low grunt before he pulled away, feeling the grip of her hands around his shoulders tightening, and then began pushing in and out.

She whimpered softly before the pain subsided, dulled, and was replaced by a tingling pleasure that grew into bliss. "Oh, oh, oh," she moaned, his movements quickening as he plunged into her as far as he could, filling her completely, his mouth on her breast again as he made short grunts in the back of his throat which matched his pace. Her hands roamed over his body and found the hard knobs of his spine, the muscles of his thighs which tensed and relaxed rhythmically, and the soft roundness of his buttocks which flexed with his thighs. She tossed her head to the left and cried out, beyond herself with the want of him, hoping that the delicious friction of his body within hers would never stop. He came to her, faster and faster, his breathing labored, his hands finding her shoulders and hers grasping his hips, both of them feeling the tension of their bodies rising, the heat and the urge becoming uncontrollable and all-consuming. She felt the strong sensation from her center, the raw tightening that told her she was close to those few moments of pure pleasure, and found herself reaching her peak. "Oh, Severus!" she cried breathlessly, her whole body quivering from her orgasm. His own breathing heightened and he suddenly shuddered above her, his lips pulled back into a grimace and his teeth bared before he groaned, pushed in and out a few more times, and then laid on his side.

Both of their chests heaved from the exertion of their love making, their skin hot and sticky from sweat. After a few minutes had passed Severus sat up and pulled the thick covers over them, running a hand over her arm and kissing her deeply. She rested her head next to his throat and was once again cradled in his arms, their legs intertwined and both still breathing heavily.

Hermione nuzzled into his chest and smiled to herself, remarking at the grayish yellow of his skin next to the pink of hers in the little light coming from the sconce in the bathroom. Her first time… and it had been so wonderful. How could two people create so much pleasure, just by being together?

"Hermione," he murmured, as though he was about the slip into a deep sleep.

"Yes?" she whispered back.

"Will you live with me?"

She lay there, stunned. "What?" she asked, breathlessly.

"You know there is no other place I would rather have you than here. I love you," he said.

Tears rolled from Hermione's eyes and down her face, and she moved her arm to wipe them away. "I l-love you too," she stuttered, tilting her head up and kissing him for a long time.


	12. The Horror Within

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione woke up with the sunlight streaming in from the window over her head. Severus had already gotten up without waking her, but she could hear him flipping through the pages of a newspaper in the other room. Somehow, she mustered the strength to leave the warm bed, put on her nightdress, and found her way to Severus's couch while yawning and straightening her hair with her fingers. She sat down with her side to the back of the couch and facing him, watching as he peered at her over the newest issue of _The Practical Potioneer_.

"How are you?" he asked, fully dressed with an empty teacup on the table beside him.

"A little sore," she admitted, accepting the cup of tea he summoned for her from its mid-air flight. "But I'm fine."

"Drink."

She sipped and nodded, tasting both ginger and cinnamon. "Ginger, for healing," she reasoned. "And cinnamon…?"

"Useful for many things. In your case, memory enhancement."

"N.E.W.T.s," she groaned, closing her eyes. "I have so much to do in the next month."

"Perhaps, then, we can peruse some more of my mother's memories before you become engrossed in your studies." She nodded and smiled, enjoying his pleasant mood. He returned to his paper and she finished her tea before changing into her pair of simple black robes.

A house-elf appeared with a small pop in front of the fireplace as soon as Hermione crossed the threshold of the living area. It had a small plate on its hands which she quickly lifted away, for the house-elf was shaking uncontrollably.

"Jitters brings Miss Head Girl breakfast, for she must be hungry."

Hermione watched as Severus rolled his eyes. "Thanks, Jitters," she said, blinking from the sudden pop the elf caused as it disappeared. On the plate was a croissant covered in a hot blueberry sauce and whipped cream. She picked it up and took a small bite. "Mmm…." She smiled to herself and took another bite. "It's just like the ones I used to get in France when I vacationed with my family." Even though it was a happy memory, any thought of her family was tinged with sadness. She didn't let herself think about her parents too often because there was no use in it – she couldn't bring them back until she had the time to go to Australia and retrieve them to restore their memories, a process that would take a long time to plan and execute.

When she had finished eating, Severus folded his paper, took some Floo Powder from the jar sitting on the mantle, and sent the plate back to the kitchens. He met Hermione in the back of the room with the Pensieve and swirled the mixture with his wand.

"I have a question," she began.

"Of course," he responded, tilting his head in her direction and looking at her thoughtfully.

"When Ron, Harry, and I had talked to Myrtle about her death several years ago she said that she had waited for hours for anyone to come and find her, and if I remember correctly, the person who did was Olive Hornby."

"And?"

"She had made it out as though she had no friends, but it's obvious that your mother was her best friend. Why didn't she go looking for her when she went missing?"

"Patience, Miss Granger, is a virtue." She opened her mouth to give a retort, but he silenced her. "You don't have long to wait for the answers you seek."

They bent into the liquid of the Pensieve and saw Eileen standing in the deserted second floor girl's bathroom, staring at her reflection in the cracked and spotted mirror by candlelight. She concentrated and watched as her hair turned a lighter auburn, then sandy blonde, and then a striking shade of yellow. Hermione could only imagine that Tom Riddle had charmed her when he had called her "Princess," and as any girl would she became self-conscientious about her appearance. She could imagine Eileen's internal dialogue, considering the uncharacteristic number of hours she had spent in front of the mirror thinking the same thoughts when she decided what she felt for Severus. _Perhaps if I thinned my eyebrows a little and softened the black of my hair… added some blush to my cheeks and plumped my lips just a touch…._ Hermione watched as she squinted while adjusting her appearance. The changes were not much - no one would be able to tell differently - but the effect was lovely.

Eileen looked down and Hermione noticed a small snake etched into the side of the copper tap. It was strange, but not so significant or interesting in a place such as Hogwarts. However, a realization hit her, as Hermione understood when Eileen ran her forefinger over the engraving – Salazar's symbol.

"It makes sense," Hermione whispered. "How else would he have found the entrance? A girl had to have helped him. These bathrooms were still used back then; he would never have dared thought about entering them. It wasn't as if he would have wandered into the girl's bathroom to look around."

Severus nodded, walking out of the chamber as his mother did, Hermione following. They walked up the two flights of stairs to the library, presumably to find Tom. However, the first person she found was someone she had not intended on seeing.

"Oh, hello Rubeus!" she exclaimed at the broad backside which towered over her.

He turned around and bent over in order to better speak with her. "Eileen, I've been lookin' fer yeh," he smiled. "Wanted ter tell yeh abou' Kettleburn. He wants me ter help 'im!"

"Oh, that's great!"

"An' look," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a round milky-white orb. It looked like a crystal ball but there was a dark spot in the middle, and Eileen seemed confused about what it was. He dropped it into her open hands so she could look it over, Hermione and Severus both standing over her shoulder as she did. "What is it?" she finally asked.

"An Acromantula egg."

"What's an 'Acromantula?'"

"A gian' spider."

"Take it away, take it away!" exclaimed Eileen, handing the egg back to Hagrid and jumping back a foot, right through Severus and Hermione. "How did you get that thing?"

"Professor Kettleburn bough' a load of 'em off some traveler, an' I took one."

"You _took _one? Oh, Rubeus, how could you?"

Hagrid immediately turned red. "Bu' it's jus' one – he won' miss it too much. I'll take care-"

"Rubeus, you need to go back and give it back to Professor Kettleburn! It's going to be a giant spider one day and you won't be able to take care of it anymore! It could hurt someone!" She seemed exasperated and desperate to get through to him.

Hagrid had already put the egg back into his pocket. "O' course I will-"

"Rubeus, please!" she begged.

"You think Madam Pince would have caught them by now," Hermione muttered to Severus.

"There was another librarian at the time, one who was obviously not as gifted as Irma at finding troublemakers."

Hagrid looked as though he would begin to cry again, and his shoulders were hunched over as he walked out of the library and down the corridor. Eileen sighed and turned to walk down the adjoining aisle only to find Tom Riddle standing, watching her. He had obviously just heard everything that had been said.

Eileen, however, barely noticed; if she did, she didn't give any sign that she had. "Tom, I've found it."

"Found what, my Princess?" he leered, leaning against the freestanding bookcase next to them.

"The entrance," she whispered. The library melted away and Hermione and Severus again stood in the girl's bathroom. Tom hissed to the tap in Parseltongue, Eileen standing guard at the entry to the large chamber. The sink screeched as it moved down, exposing a huge pipe.

Tom knelt down and looked into the darkness as though attempting to discern how far down the drop was. He then turned to Eileen. "Are you coming with me?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I helped you find it, Tom, but I'm not going with you. If there really is a chamber then there might be a monster, and I'm not-" She looked out into the corridor as some girls passed by. "Hurry, someone might walk in. Go!" she exclaimed.

He slid down and out of view and everything faded. Hermione looked on as Eileen and Myrtle happily chatted together over brunch at the Ravenclaw table in a fairly crowded Great Hall. Owls zoomed over head as they delivered mail and Hermione smiled as she noticed Dumbledore cheerfully talking with a very young Slughorn at the staff table.

"Don't you want anymore cereal? Maybe some sausage?" Myrtle looked concerned as Eileen pushed around some soggy flakes with a spoon.

"No, I'm fine."

"You look paler than usual. Is it because you changed your appearance? You look a little different."

Eileen shook her head but blushed slightly. "No, I just don't feel like eating, is all."

There was an awkward silence between them before Myrtle said, "Earl Garrott's looking rather good today."

"Myrtle, he's a Gryffindor! He's got about as much wit as a troll!"

"So?" she asked defensively. "I'm not discriminatory. Besides, he's not as witless as Olive Hornby. Could you believe that she spilled her Swelling Solution all over herself in Potions today?"

"I feel bad for laughing about it, but-"

"We all laughed, but you know she deserved it. I feel worse for Professor Slughorn having to clean her up!" They giggled together lightheartedly before she noticed Myrtle frowning at something over her shoulder. "And who are _you_?" asked Myrtle, crossing her arms and turning up her nose. Eileen turned around in her seat and almost jumped out of her skin when she saw Tom Riddle standing over her shoulder.

"I need to speak to you," he said, his voice low and urgent. Eileen was torn and embarrassed – she had never told Myrtle about him and was in the middle of eating breakfast, but she hadn't spoken to him since he had found the entrance. He bent over the table and put his hand on Eileen's shoulder. "Give us a moment," he told Myrtle. Her eyes narrowed behind her silver spectacles as her friend was dragged out of the hall.

Tom steered Eileen into the corner near the staircase leading down to the kitchens. Several Hufflepuffs walked past them but didn't pay much attention, laughing amongst themselves.

"It's all there," he told her. "Every part of it. Slytherin must have spent years designing it – it is so perfect, so well hidden."

"How did you get out?"

"I summoned my broomstick."

"And the monster?" she asked, shaking.

"It's all there," he repeated.

She fell silent and leaned back against the cold wall, eyeing the portraits above which didn't seem to take interest in their conversation, and then looked past him, as though worried the monster would appear at any moment. "You have to stop. You can't-"

"Oh, but I haven't even begun," he said quietly, quite pleased with himself.

"Hogwarts is supposed to be safe. You can't let a monster have its run of the school!"

"This school is supposed to be a place of higher learning, and it's time that Slytherin's standard was upheld. Besides," he added, looking up the stairs behind him as Myrtle looked down from the landing above, "it will only do the bidding that I command it to." He looked back at her. "I would recommend finding better company than your unsightly friend. What is her name?"

"Myrtle Mardling," she fumed, making fists with her hands.

"Mardling? I've never heard of a wizard with that name before."

"It's because she's a Muggleborn," she spat, moving away from him. "But it doesn't matter, because she's a brilliant witch. She's one of the best witches in my class. Now, stay away from me – I don't want to talk to you anymore. You're an awful person, and I'm sorry I ever met you," she said, leaving him and running up the stairs after Myrtle.

Hermione and Severus were now standing in Eileen's dormitory, watching as she packed her trunk. Myrtle sat on her bed which was draped in bright blue fabric, gloomily looking out of the large windows which faced the mountains. She was holding a pillow to her stomach and looked slightly pale. Hermione wondered how many days of life she had left. A month? A week? She looked as though she would collapse from exhaustion and worry at any moment, and Eileen looked no better.

"Do you really have to go?" Myrtle asked.

Eileen stowed the last of her clothes before turning around. "I don't _want _to," she said tearfully. "My mum and dad are making me." She paused, sitting down on her bed to face Myrtle. "But I don't blame them – four attacks in two weeks means that Hogwarts isn't safe. I just wish you were coming home with me."

The two girls hugged and Eileen locked her trunk, ready to burst into tears. Hermione noticed the look of extreme guilt she had on her face and could only imagine what she was feeling. She and Severus followed the girls down the many flights of stairs they took on their descent until they reached the ground floor. McGonagall stood watchfully in the Entrance Hall, her hair braided back and her eyes nervously looking through the square frames of her glasses. She was quietly giving orders to the few students who were leaving while running her hand along the back of a tabby cat she had awkwardly cradled in her arms for comfort. Another Gryffindor Prefect with long braided hair hurried to stand next to her, whispering quietly and anxiously.

"Augusta Longbottom," explained Severus.

Eileen quickly ran up to a middle-aged couple who Hermione quickly assumed to be her parents, _and Severus's grandparents_, she thought. She noticed his grandmother from one of the first memories she had seen. She was slightly short with curly blonde hair which was parted to one side and fell above her shoulders. There were large pearl earrings in her ears and she wore knee-length robes which were layered in shades of green. His grandfather towered over her, bending over to give his daughter a kiss before straightening back up. He had short black hair and wore robes of a deep blue which draped over him as they would a coat rack. He was thin and angular but still good-looking, his eyes a shocking blue which changed from cold to warm as his expression did. It was obvious that Eileen came from a family of wealth.

Professor Dippet was scurrying from family to family and looking harried, assuring that Hogwarts would be safe before long, that the attacker would be found, and that he was deeply saddened at the students' departures. Eileen took the time that the Headmaster spoke to her parents to hug Myrtle goodbye a final time.

They were suddenly in Eileen's bedroom at home, and she under the covers of her bed, sobbing. _The Dailey Prophet _was splayed out on the covers in front of her, the headline "Girl Murdered: The End of Hogwarts in Sight" in large lettering across the top. Professor Dippet was standing in front of the students in the Great Hall, looking morose and giving a silent speech. Lower on the page was a small picture with a handsome boy in Slytherin robes who smiled as he was being handed a large trophy for special services to the school. An article on another page was titled "Grindelwald's Forces Strong in Bulgaria." Suddenly, the boy in the photograph stepped out of green flames which sprung up from the grate in Eileen's empty fireplace.

"There there," he said, clucking his tongue at her, "no use in crying."

She sat up and grabbed her wand from the drawer in her bedside table. "How did you find me?"

"The school has records." He drew out his own wand as well.

"Go away, or I swear I'll hurt you!" she threatened.

"You know as well as I that you aren't allowed to perform magic outside of school. Put your wand down," he commanded.

Tom stood near the edge of her bed and looked over her large bedroom. It was painted a soft blue and had high, vaulted ceilings, not unlike the Ravenclaw dormitories. She had a four-poster bed with white draping fabric and a matching bed spread which was pushed against a wall with an open window. A large bookcase hugged the far wall and was filled to the brim with novels and small knick-knacks which seemed alive as they whirred, spun, and crawled around the books. Her half-emptied trunk sat open next to a wooden desk by the fireplace, and on the desk sat a birdcage with a small brown owl inside, its head tucked under its wing.

"What are you doing here?" She edged further away without lowering her wand, still in hysterics. "My friend's dead and it's all your fault, _you_ let that horrid thing out!"

Her words didn't seem to startle him in the least. "You needn't worry my Princess, it won't hurt anyone else. It was Hagrid's _monster_, not _me_."

"You're the one who opened up the chamber in the girl's bathroom, and that's where Myrtle died! You're lying, and now Hagrid's been expelled for no reason at all!"

"Hagrid is an oaf, a failure of a student. He isn't even entirely human. He wouldn't have made anything of himself anyway."

"I _know _you killed her," she sobbed. "Why? Why did you?"

He narrowed his eyes and stood closer to her. "She didn't _deserve _to live."

"She's just a girl!"

"It doesn't matter – Mudbloods are all the same, all worthless-"

"I'll tell Professor Dippet what you've done!"

His furious face was inches from hers as he knelt on her bed. "Tell him what? How you helped me find out information about Slytherin's wishes for the school? How you told me the _exact _location of the chamber? How, without you, I would _never _have found it or been able to release the basilisk-"

"Basilisk?" she gasped.

"-and without it your friend Myrtle would still be alive? I'm sure he would take pity on you, before breaking your wand and expelling you. What would your family think?" He pulled away from her and stood up, looking out of her window to the meadow below. She studied his face and found that he was no longer handsome to her. His face was white and stony, his lips thin, his nose and cheekbones sharp, his eyes dull and lifeless. "I have been thinking," said Tom, "that it was no mistake Slytherin put the entrance in the girl's bathroom. Perhaps he _meant _for one boy and one girl to work together to uncover his secrets."

"No-"

"Perhaps we're supposed to fulfill Salazar's wishes, continue his noble work-"

"You're mad, Tom," she said, still crying freely. "You're mad, and I don't ever want to see you again. Out – get OUT!" she shouted, throwing a pillow after him as he leapt towards the fireplace at the sound of high heels on wood. He disappeared before Eileen's mother stuck her head in the room.

"What's wrong, dear?" she asked sweetly, entering the room as her daughter cried. She looked impeccable in her long blue gown, but did not hesitate to pull Eileen to her chest and allow her to sob. "Did you have a nightmare? I heard you yelling." Eileen nodded, her face hidden by her hair. "I'm sorry about your friend." It was a weak gesture of comfort and her mother knew it. She sighed, and said, "It's almost time for dinner – will you come down?"

"I'm not really hungry," she murmured, miserably.

"Okay." Her mother watched as she lay down in bed, despondent. "Try not to feel so bad, there's nothing you could have done to prevent it. What happened, happened."

"Hermione," said Severus, putting his hand over hers. She stepped next to him and her head spun as they left the memory together. As he put away the Pensieve she sat up on the work table, waiting for him to turn around.

"Did your mother ever see Myrtle's ghost when she came back to Hogwarts?"

"I'm unsure. I've heard that Myrtle spent many years haunting Olive Hornby until the Ministry ordered her to return here." Severus put his kettle in the sink and washed it out with water.

She crossed her legs and tucked the excess fabric of her robes under her thighs as the table creaked. "How many more memories are there?"

"Not many," he answered, pulling his wand out to dry and put away the teapot.

She leaned back on her hands and asked, "What happened to your grandparents? Couldn't they still be alive?"

Severus placed his wand back within his cloak and sighed, leaning against the table with one hand. "They were murdered when I was young. I don't remember them."

"Who…?" It was almost a silly question to ask. Who else would have wanted them dead? "Why would he kill them? They were Pure-bloods!"

"The Dark Lord was not highly discriminatory. If he needed to frighten someone into submission, to ensure that anything they knew about him remained a secret – especially something no one else knew – he would go to any lengths he thought necessary."

"Why did Voldemort spare your mother, then?" Severus didn't answer her question, but instead placed the tips of his fingers under her jaw and tipped her head to the right, as though examining her. His eyebrows were furrowed, and she frowned as well. "What?"

"How can you be so full of questions?" he muttered.

"Perhaps if you weren't so cryptic…." She giggled, putting her hands on his chest and smoothing out his black necktie before dropping them into her lap. "But really, tell me."

He dropped his hands at his sides and looked down at her over his hooked nose. "She left the wizarding world, thinking that marrying a Muggle would end her associations with the wizarding community. Truthfully, I don't know how she successfully evaded him during those years. I believe Dumbledore had something to do with keeping her safe. It is perhaps the reason that she did not marry until she was older. In my sixth year of schooling she was sent to St. Mungo's, and then to Azkaban. When she was released, I was out of school and had recently become a Death Eater. It was then that she went into hiding."

"Hiding? Is she still-"

"As much as I would enjoy answering all of your questions, I believe you have some homework to complete." She pressed her lips together in mock dissatisfaction before hopping off of the table and gathering her things. "You needn't, I'll send them through the Floo," he instructed. Severus gently folded her against his body as she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him deeply on the lips and running her fingers through his hair. "Perhaps I'll see you later."

"Mm-hm," she hummed, a pitch higher than was normal. She left and put the backs of her hands on her cheeks in an attempt to cool them down, feeling faint as she walked up the stairs to her room.

Peeves swooped overhead and noisily played with the suits of armor, so Hermione took the stairs to avoid running into him. She passed the library on the fourth floor landing and was surprised to see the old librarian standing there, watching Ginny run to the stairs while being batted over the head by a book.

"Miscreant! Pillock! Ink, spilled all over my book!" screeched the librarian.

"Ouch! I didn't mean – ouch!" She dropped her messenger bag on the floor before picking it up by the strap. "Oh, Hermione!" she called out once she'd spotted her, quickly running up the stairs after her as the book zoomed into Madam Pince's arms. "Wait up!"

She slowed her pace a little, stopping on the fifth floor landing. "What is it?" she asked, neither meanly nor kindly.

"Look, I'm really sorry about what I did, but I was worried about you." Hermione began walking again, but Ginny followed her closely, brushing her long hair out of her eyes. "I mean, it was none of my business-"

"You're right it wasn't," she interjected, refusing to look at her and instead angrily addressing the steps. "Do you have any idea how embarrassing it was to be questioned by McGonagall – _McGonagall _– about our relationship, and then to have her forbid us to see each other? She still won't even call on me in class, and it's been two months!"

They walked up the final flight and paused for breath, as they were well-winded by now. Ginny suddenly stopped in the seventh floor corridor and looked down at the floor. "Fred died right here, you know. I have to live every day walking past here and thinking about it. And you – you weren't here last year, when the Carrows terrorized everyone. You couldn't imagine-"

"No, I obviously couldn't imagine how frightened you were, considering I was only on the run from the Ministry and the Snatchers, caught and tortured, and then orchestrated a break-in to Gringotts, only to come back the next day to Hogwarts to fight in the battle."

"Forget me if I am blinded, but it is difficult to forgive someone for what they've done, especially someone like Snape. Fred might still be alive if – if he hadn't-"

"It wasn't his fault! If the Carrows had thought he was soft on the students, he would have been removed from his position as Headmaster. He even sent the students with detentions with Hagrid to _make sure_ they weren't being hurt. You can't hold him accountable for something the Death Eaters did the night of the battle."

"I… suppose you're right, Hermione. It's just… difficult to forgive."

"I know, Ginny," she said, aggravated. A group of Gryffindor boys passed them as she walked towards the door to her room.

"Hermione, hold on! I wanted to tell you that my mum wants to have a graduation party for you, me, and Luna. Everyone's going to be there."

"I'll think about it," she replied, opening her door with the flick of her wand and closing it behind her. Ginny crossed her arms angrily and marched towards the entrance to Gryffindor Tower.


	13. Moving On

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

As Hermione opened the door she heard Crookshanks meowing at her angrily. "Oh, I'm so sorry; I forgot to feed you last night!" She quickly poured out some food for him and watched the ginger cat eagerly stick his flat face into his little bowl on the fireplace. She opened her window, watched the curtains billow out from the warm breeze, put away the bags Severus sent through the fireplace, and began cleaning her room. Once she had finished she sat with her books and several rolls of parchment, rewriting old notes as well as completing some homework. She went down to the Great Hall by herself for lunch and returned to her room to spend a lazy Sunday afternoon studying. In the evening she dined alone, completely caught up in her work.

She sat in bed, tied her hair back, tuned her old radio to a classical station, and began reading through her Charms notes. There were only thirty days until N.E.W.T.s, and she felt like she was barely prepared. She practiced her Heating Charm every day while she dried her hair, so she figured that shouldn't be much of a problem. Conjuring sheep, however, was difficult and messy, and she could only try a few times before becoming annoyed at the amount of black sheep she had produced when she was aiming for a soft grey. Hermione figured that using a Color Change Charm would be cheating, and so she had been working on advanced Vanishing to make them disappear.

It was well past midnight when the flames in her fireplace flickered green. "Severus!" she exclaimed, standing up as he walked out of the ashes and into her little room. A sheep bleated dolefully at them before Hermione caused the small flock she had created to vanish. Her first thought was that she had been glad she'd cleaned earlier – he'd never been in her room before, other than when they had visited it through her memory, and she was shocked he'd invited himself.

"How did I know you would be up at this hour?" He quickly took her into his arms, pressed his hand against the small of her back, and kissed her mouth fervently. Hermione was surprised to see him in such a state of want and desire, and without words moved her books and parchment to her floor with a spell and helped him out of his clothes. It was so extraordinary to see Severus Snape crouching over her on her bed, pulling at her tie and unbuttoning her shirt, reaching to unhook her black bra and then running his hands along the smooth of her back before taking a breast in his mouth. She leaned back against her pillows and breathed heavily, laying her fingers on his nose and then pushing them through his dark hair. His hands quickly went to her skirt, which he took off and laid folded on her floor before skimming the length of her legs.

She bit her lip before asking, "What about-"

"The contraceptive lasts until your next menstruation." He looked up at her, his eyes waiting for her nod before he moved lower. Severus pulled away her stockings and then her knickers, feeling her wriggle under the touch of his fingers against her thighs.

His hands were on her hips again before moving onto her shoulders, and after a short moment of finding the right position he began to thrust deeply into her. Hermione heard the bed thump softly underneath their combined weight and reveled in the feel of his warm body on hers. His low moans and gasps alone were enough to make that sensation within her to grow, and it didn't take long before a great wave of pleasure overcame both of them. Severus collapsed onto her and she wrapped her arms around his torso, kissing his neck lovingly as he breathed in and out deeply. When he had regained his composure he pulled away from her and laid on his side, looking down at her. She rolled over to face him, and he ran his left hand along her body as she pressed her fingers against his chest.

It had begun to rain earlier, and they listened to the downpour rushing off of the castle's roof mixed with the sweet chorus of instruments from her radio. Hermione closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. With a slight motion of his hand he had extinguished all the candles in her room and turned off the music, and they quickly fell asleep together in her little bed, exhausted and sated.

.

.

.

She was woken up by a pair of lips trailing across her shoulders. "Time for class," he said quietly, his hair a ruffled mess.

Hermione looked over her shoulder at him before burrowing under the covers. "Please don't make me go," she groaned.

He pressed his stomach against her back, sweeping his hand along her stomach and then down between her thighs. She was immediately awake, and suddenly felt his hard member pushing against her back. Severus's hand slipped between her knees and pulled her leg over his, giving him access to her from behind. He pushed into her, slowly, filling her and then pulling away, thrusting as softly as he could. She moaned in delight – the sensuality of it was so different from how it had been last night. Not better, just so different…. It let her experience him fully, the way she wanted to. His hand was also between her legs, helping her reach her orgasm, and when she did it was explosive. He shuddered into her as well, holding her close for a while longer before leaving her bed.

Severus pulled on his black trousers, socks, and shoes. "You have half an hour before class," he told her, watching her step out of bed naked and search through her drawers for a fresh set of clothes. Once she had pulled on enough clothing to look respectable, she stood up next to him. He helped button her shirt as she buttoned his, and when they had finished they kissed each other deeply. "Go eat breakfast," he ordered, watching her pull up her skirt and tuck her shirt in.

"I don't really have an appetite," she mumbled, feeling his eyes on her as she reached for a brush to comb out her hair. "Besides, I really should read through my Transfiguration essay once more, just so I know I've weeded out any errors."

He walked up to her fireplace and threw some powder into the grate. "I hardly understand how you can be so practical and yet so impractical at the same time." He had his cape and his necktie draped across his forearm as he stepped out of her room and vanished.

Her day was a long one. McGonagall was particularly unpleasant during class, berating Hermione when she wasn't the first to fully transfigure her desk into a pig. She had at least done better than Ginny's, as every time her pig oinked it let out a sort of creaking sound.

During her double Potions class she found it exceedingly difficult to concentrate. She looked around at her classmates as they sat with their chins in the palm of their hands, bored of Severus's lesson. Could anyone have even dreamed that Severus Snape had lain naked next to Hermione Granger last night? She went through the night's events as he lectured about the importance of cauldron composition and potion yield.

"Miss Granger, your mind is obviously elsewhere. 15 points from Gryffindor, and if I catch you daydreaming again you will have earned yourself a detention." She shrunk into her seat, her face reddened from embarrassment. Why did he always pick on her? It was obvious she wasn't the only one not paying attention! She redeemed herself by being the first finished with her Draught of Deception, and when she submitted her potion for testing, the dandelion Severus dropped into the cauldron transformed into a brilliant yellow rose. "Excellent work, Miss Granger," he said, flicking his wand at a stack of essays he had graded and letting hers float into her hands. "Continue as such, and an 'Outstanding' will be easily attainable on your N.E.W.T.s." He smirked at her and she left, hugging her essay marked with an "O" to her chest.

Arithmancy was duller than usual, and it was all she could do to not fall asleep in class. There were only seven N.E.W.T. students, however, so she wouldn't be able to get away with daydreaming this time, either. Herbology was her last class and they had been transplanting and watering the school's crop of figgets, beautiful flowers with bright blue petals and a poisonous bite. The students wore protective gloves, but Hermione absentmindedly readjusted one of the pots after the lesson, once she had stowed her gloves away.

"Ouch!" she exclaimed quietly, pulling her fingers away and looking at the fine pricks of blood along her ring and middle finger.

"Oh dear," said Professor Sprout, bustling over and taking Hermione's hand in her own to look at the wound. "Best go to Madam Pomfrey, quick as you can."

"Yes, of course," she said, feeling her fingers begin to swell and having a bit of difficulty flexing them. However, the Hospital Wing was four floors away, and she knew that Severus would have the same remedies Madam Pomfrey did.

Hermione quickly entered the front door and ran down the steps to the dungeons, turning the familiar corners but slowed when she heard a loud meowing. She thought it might somehow have been Crookshanks, but instead found Mrs. Norris sitting in the middle of the hallway, her large yellow eyes staring at Hermione as she walked past. She clumsily knocked on Severus's office door with her left hand before quickly opening it.

"-wanted me to give you-" rasped a thin voice, stopping immediately when her knocking was registered. Both Filch and Severus were looking at her, slightly bewildered, and she looked at them with similar emotion.

When no one spoke, she held up her engorged hand and said, "I need some help, Professor."

Severus nodded curtly at Filch, took a bundle of papers from his hand, and tucked them inside of his cape, watching as the caretaker shuffled slowly out of the room. "Come along, my sweet," he said hoarsely to his scrawny cat, who was now loudly yowling behind Hermione. He shut the door behind him with one last look at the pair with his bulging eyeballs.

Hermione rushed over to Severus's side, her hand now swollen to twice its natural size and her bones feeling as though they were burning. "A figget bit me in Herbology today," she explained.

Wordlessly, he pulled out a small cauldron, set it among the several other large ones on his worktable, and shredded some yarrow and cowslip. He poured out a vial of thick orange paste before taking a ladle and stirring the ingredients three times clockwise. The mixture quickly homogenized and became a bright green fizzing liquid. He transferred the potion into a cup for her.

"Drink this, for the poison." She managed to bring it to her mouth and gulped it down, surprised that it was tasty, although gritty. A cooling sensation ran through her hand, and Severus set to work making a Deflating Draught. After he had finished, she downed it as she had the last potion. The swelling went down rapidly and soon enough she could flex her fingers again. "How is your hand?" he asked.

"It's still a bit painful," she remarked.

He began putting away the materials he'd used and started lecturing her. "You're lucky they were only seedlings. Figgets are in greenhouse three for a reason!" He paused, and then added, "Perhaps you are failing to pay attention in several of your classes, and not just mine? Professors tend to notice when their pupils are out of sorts, and I'm certain someone such as McGonagall will not hesitate to draw conclusions." He motioned for her to follow him and soon they were in his chambers, sitting on his couch. Severus held out her injured hand in front of him and studied it, noticing several white scars along her palm. "What are these from?"

"The Lestrange's vault. Everything was cursed with Flagrante, and I burnt my hand on Hufflepuff's goblet."

"I had forgotten," he murmured, drenching the bandages he held with the essence of murtlap in the bowl on Hermione's lap. "Breaking into Gringotts, what a fool.… Only someone as arrogant as Potter would have considered that feasible."

"It was necessary, and it worked," she retorted, wincing as he tightened the dressings across her fingers so they were stiff.

"Not without some scarring."

Hermione settled back against the couch and watched as he levitated the bowl over to the sink. "What were you and Filch talking about earlier?"

"He was delivering a message."

"I didn't know you were confidants."

"Hardly," he said, smirking at her. "However, we do have similar views concerning the students. And he has been rather… helpful, over the years."

"What did he give you?" Severus reached into his cape and pulled out a thin stack of issues of _The_ _Dailey Prophet_ which were tied together. He pulled away the string and scanned over the articles before handing them to her. The first headline was "Imprisoned Death Eater Seeks Release from Azkaban." A picture of Lucius Malfoy sneering at her took up nearly half the page and she scanned below the title for the date. "This was released in February – months ago!" she exclaimed.

"You know I don't read this rubbish," he said, now examining the articles intently.

"But surely, we would have heard… someone would have talked about it!" She picked up the nearest paper. "Released!" she exclaimed shrilly. "On good behavior!"

"I don't recall when 'good behavior' was equated with having money."

She continued as though he hadn't spoken. "Years of _hosting _Voldemort in his manor, bending to his every whim, and they _let him out on good behavior?_ He's even criticizing the Ministry for not having enough evidence to imprison him in the first place, that it was a scandal – listen to this! 'Mr. Malfoy is concerned that many other Death Eaters now residing in Azkaban are victims of a ploy fabricated by the Ministry to imprison as many possible suspects, although not proven criminals, as a kind of retribution for the general public.' He's paving the way for more to be released - and this was in March!" She took the next available paper and tears started welling up in her eyes. "Severus Snape: You-Know-Who's Right-Hand Man? New Information Arises with Malfoy's Release" was written in bold letters.

"That article is at least partially true. However, if they knew the full story-"

"Then you should tell them!"

He scoffed at her. "They have slandered your name and mine in the past with little evidence; they'll do it again and again to whomever they like without trepidation." He held up a paper next to his face. "Do you realize what color it's printed in?"

"Er… black and white?" she asked.

"Yes, Hermione, because that is the light they view the world in – you are either guilty or innocent, wrong or right, and there are no shades of grey in between. Mine is a convoluted tale, and they will find me guilty whatever I say. Proving my innocence would require revealing my motivation, which I will not. People will think what they like, and that is how it will always be. It is best to lie low and let it pass instead of stirring up more trouble." He stood up and rested his weight against the mantle of his fireplace, his eyes closed.

She put her hand to her forehead and flipped through the paper she held. Both Nott and Rowle had been released as well only a few days ago, for the same reasons as Lucius. "But Death Eaters should have been stamped out by now, permanently. It's not good that they're getting out, and worse still that they're tying _you_ to it instead of them."

"_The Dailey Prophet_ sells nothing more than lies and fear, and it always has." He gathered up the papers with a flourish of his wand. "We have more significant things to rest our minds on."

"Like what?" she asked.

.

.

.

After dark they left the castle and descended towards the lake. The grounds were deserted and the air was fresh after yesterday's rainstorm, the trees swaying overhead calmly in the wind. The water lapped up gently near the shore, and the half-moon shone on Dumbledore's white tomb.

"_Orchideous_," Hermione whispered as she moved her wand in a circle in the air, laying a bundle of white carnations at the foot of the tomb.

Severus touched the cool marble for a moment before directing Hermione along a well-worn path lined by flutterby bushes and large oak trees. After a few minutes of walking they came to a large granite monolith which stood in a small clearing, dedicated to "All of those who have ever lost their lives fighting for what is right." They stopped at the foot of it, looking up at the inscribed names of those who had fallen not just during the Battle of Hogwarts, but ever since the beginning of the First Wizarding War. The lettering of each name was randomly lit and softly went out so that the large stone glittered in the night. She again conjured a large bouquet of flowers and laid it at the base, in memory.

"I can't believe the battle was only a year ago." Hermione's voice became rather high-pitched and thin. "So many... Fred, and Colin…. But Tonks… and Professor Lupin…. I wish that they hadn't died, more than anyone, because they had a _son_," she said, her voice cracking. "And it could have been us, too. We could have died."

"It is unfortunate," he acknowledged. "Even so, in the following months, I had often wished my life had ended that night."

"Why would you wish for such a thing?" Hermione asked, tears in her eyes.

The light from the monument illuminated and darkened Severus's face as it flickered softly, falling upon his yellow skin and black eyes so that they glittered, and he looked from it towards her. "Because it is sometimes too difficult to continue living if there is no purpose to live at all."

Hermione had never intently thought about what his life had been like. He had been the puppet of two men, Dumbledore and Voldemort, who had both manipulated him for their own agendas with disregard to Severus and his wishes. She could not imagine the depression caused by being alone his entire adult like, hated and feared by all. It was no wonder he had not allowed himself to let anyone else in, to expose his vulnerabilities or care for anyone. Surely, to him, death would have been a release from his miserable, loveless existence.

They stood in silence before Severus softly murmured, "Let's go." He placed his arm around her waist and led her back up to the castle. Not long after reaching the dungeons they were in their nightclothes, lying together in his bed.

"You know, Harry put the Elder Wand back into Dumbledore's tomb after the battle," said Hermione.

Severus nodded, running his fingers through her hair. "Where it should rightfully be." After a while of lying beside her, he asked, "May I see your wand?" She nodded and reached over to the bedside table with her left hand, turning back over before handing it to him. He looked it over, asking, "What are its properties?"

"Ten and three-quarters inches, vine with dragon heartstring core. Ollivander said it was 'pliant.'"

He smirked at her. "Mine is twelve and a half inches, birch with dragon heartstring." He kissed her gently, cradling the back of her head with his right palm. "There is an old saying that 'similar cores attract.'"

"But I thought it was your mother's wand, originally."

"Yes, it was. But after disuse, she was no longer the wand's master. In that way, it was able to choose her son. Wands often transfer between family members, and although some believe there is one wand best suited for one wizard, most wandmakers understand familial bonds." He placed both of their wands together on his table, turned off the light, and laid on his back. She rubbed her left hand over his stomach before resting it on his chest, her bandaged hand against her collarbone. "Goodnight," he murmured.

Hermione's eyes filled with tears as her hand rose and fell to the rhythm of his breathing. A year ago she had witnessed his attempted murder and frantically pulled him to safety. Could she ever have imagined the life she was living now – Severus's student by day, secret lover by night? That she was his partner, his equal, his friend?

.

.

.

The month of May quickly passed for Hermione and the implication of N.E.W.T.s being upon her was now a frightening reality. She refused sleep, drilled herself continuously, reread all of her notes, and spent more hours in the library than she thought possible.

And then, just like that, she had taken her N.E.W.T.s. Her days as a Hogwarts student, the best years of her life, were over. _No_, she told herself tearfully. _My life has only just begun – and it will only get better. _For the moment, it was difficult to convince herself not to cry. She was losing a part of who she was by leaving behind all the professors she had grown to look up to, and even though she would still be living in the castle it wouldn't be the same.

She now stood facing Severus in his bedroom, wearing a set of brilliant white robes for her graduation. She had tied her hair back and pulled it into a bun at the nape of her neck so that she would be able to affix a white witch's hat on top of her head.

He kissed her forehead, stroking her throat with his fingers. "You're looking quite smart, Miss Granger," he said, smirking at though he was highly pleased. He pulled at her collar and tie so that they it was arranged neatly beneath the golden clasp of her short cape, and then led her through the doorway. "My fireplace will be open tonight at exactly ten thirty, and only for five minutes."

She nodded and kissed him on the cheek. "I'll be there." He listened to her heels clack against the stone before closing the heavy wooden door behind him.

Hermione hurried up to the Entrance Hall and found her classmates milling about excitedly. She had missed the Graduation Feast, but apparently so had several other students who were pulling on their hats and hurrying down the stairs so as not to be left behind. McGonagall stood at the front in her customary green and black, accompanied by Professor Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra, Hooch, Vector, Babbling, and Collins, the newest Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. He was young, energetic, and had promisingly lasted through the year. She now saw Severus standing beside Filch, Pince, Hooch, Pomfrey, Trelawney (who seemed as though she'd celebrated with some cooking sherry earlier that morning), and O'Hara, the new professor of Muggle Studies. Even Peeves, Moaning Myrtle, Professor Binns, and the other spirits of the castle wafted in from above to watch the celebration. Hagrid stood by himself near the gigantic doors to the Entrance Hall.

McGonagall cleared her throat and began her speech. "It has been seven years since you came here seeking knowledge, eager to learn and hone your skills. Everyone gained more than they bargained for, and we have all lived through some of the most difficult times the wizarding world has ever seen. Let us not forget those who should be celebrating with us but instead whose lives were most unfortunately lost." She paused in grief before continuing, "But we must pluck up and stand strong as we always have. As a parting gesture, my fellow professors and I would like to enumerate the _most _important lessons you have learned here." She paused, pressed her lips together so not to grin, and said, "For example, it pays to _not _be on the receiving end of a nasty Vanishing Spell. Pomona?"

Professor Sprout was dressed in her best leafy-green robes and seemed to be covered in ivy. "I'd rather spend time with a disgruntled person than a disgruntled puffapod any day," she chuckled. Several of the students were laughing by now.

"Muggles are fascinating in the way they make the easiest tasks so complicated," explained O'Hara.

"Sometimes, even the _professors_ have difficulty paying attention," said Binns.

Collins chortled out, "Humor is a weapon impossible to combat."

"Some… some are just not as, as gifted as others," mumbled Trelawney torpidly.

"Animals don' care who yeh are, long as yeh feed 'em!" boomed Hagrid.

Vector said, in her high voice, "It's not the numbers that will drive you crazy – it's what they're telling you."

"Awjan-uh wulno ne isti," said Babbling.

"When all else fails," drawled Severus, "use a bezoar."

Flitwick squeaked, "Remember, it's all in the-"

"-hand movement!" finished a chorus of students.

Sinistra smiled, saying, "You all know this one as well – astronomers do it-"

"-in the dark!"

"Hold on tight," said Hooch. "It's all in the hands and the thighs."

After the uproarious laughter died down, McGonagall said with a small smile, "We would like to wish you luck and happiness. We hope that you will all find professions that interest and inspire you. But above all, we expect that, even when you are as old as me," she paused for chuckling, "you will still remember your days at Hogwarts with fondness. Off to the boats," she said, the grand doors opening with the gesture of her hand.

"How are yeh, Hermione?" asked a familiar voice. She realized that Hagrid was dressed in his finest moleskin overcoat and a new purple tie, grinning from ear to ear even though there were tears in the corners of his small crinkly eyes. "How 'bout a cup o' tea, later this week? I've wanted ter talk to yeh."

"Of course, Hagrid," she said, elated from the professors' speech. She was quickly lost in the sea of white as the students cheered and descended down to the fleet of boats they had been brought to Hogwarts in as first years. Several boats had already pushed off to float across the lake, Hagrid alone in the front, and she was about to get into one by herself before an ethereal voice called her name.

"Luna!" she exclaimed, quickly hopping in beside her and Ginny before setting out across the lake. Luna had braided white ribbons into her hair and wore a garland of daisies on the crown of her head to match her robes.

"I haven't seen you very much this year," said the blonde haired girl quietly. "I'm sure you've been very busy."

"I'm really sorry about it, I've-"

"Don't be sorry, it's quite all right. Look, the giant squid – I bet he's come to say goodbye."

Hermione looked down into the water and nearly shrieked – a giant eyeball was staring at her from just beneath the surface. She looked away and noticed that the graduating students had begun to conjure balloons and streamers, shooting them other of their wands in celebration. She added a flock of silver doves which flew up into the sky and disappeared as Ginny charmed a cloud of multicolored bubbles the size of bowling balls which bounced across the surface of the lake. Others had set off silver fireworks which zoomed around the boats and exploded in the air.

"I'm glad you're both celebrating by coming to the party," Ginny said to her companions.

Luna smiled to herself and said, "Of course. It's very sad to leave Hogwarts, but at least I've made friends. All good things come to an end, I suppose."

Hermione looked behind her and saw the professors standing at the edge of the cliff, watching the students as they left. She concentrated, twisted her wand and a white otter shot out of the end, swimming through the air and back towards the cliff they had departed from. Soon enough Ginny's horse and Luna's rabbit swirled around overhead, and then were joined by a dog, a fox, a raven, and a pig, flying past each boat and then soaring over Hogwarts before disappearing.

They banked upon the opposite shore, and as Hermione stepped out of the boat, she realized that she didn't need to worry – she would be back, soon enough.


	14. Mixed Feelings

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione, Ginny, and Luna Apparated right outside the doorstep of the Burrow, quickly entered, and were greeted by an animated Mrs. Weasley.

"Congratulations girls!" she exclaimed, hugging her daughter first before embracing the other two. She was dressed in colorful robes made of several bright floral patterns she had most likely knit herself. "Your father will be home as soon as he can – he's awfully proud of you," she told Ginny. "Everyone's outside," she explained, opening the back door in the kitchen and standing outside the doorframe. As Hermione was ushered out she noticed the wonderful miasma of smells issuing from the kitchen and watched as Mrs. Weasley began levitating food onto the large rectangular table set up in the garden.

"Harry!" exclaimed Ginny, running into his arms and kissing him, the brim of her white hat catching his forehead and dropping onto the ground.

They both turned beet-red as soon as George began laughing. "Get a room, both of you."

"Shut up, George," Ginny said, defensively, picking up her hat and throwing it at him.

"What? I didn't hear you!" he exclaimed, putting the hat on his head, turning towards her and cupping the hole where his right ear had been. He smiled, and his little sister hugged him, as did Hermione. "About time you three showed up, I'm bloody starving! Besides, Angelina's in a fragile state," he said, gesturing towards his wife's stomach. Hermione could see that it was quite large under the thin fabric of her summer robes, and realized that she was pregnant.

"Rubbish, and you know it," Angelina retorted.

"Congratulations!" exclaimed Hermione. "I can't believe I haven't seen you in almost two years!"

"Thank you – time does seem to go by pretty quickly. And congratulations yourself!"

Hermione watched Ron stand up from his seat at the table and awkwardly extend her a hand. She took it reluctantly – he was being ridiculous for denying her a hug – and asked, "How are you?"

"Fine," he replied, before going up to Luna and shaking her hand. Hermione couldn't read in his eyes whether he knew about Severus, but he did seem rather miserable and put off. It had been nearly ten months – he should have gotten over it by now!

Mrs. Weasley came out of the kitchen and tried to get them to sit at the table. "Would anyone like some Nogtails-in-a-blanket? I also have some fried Plimpies, garden salad, and pistachio ice cream from Florean's. Hermione, you look terribly thin." Before she could disagree, Mrs. Weasley had thrust a plate full of food into her hands. "Tuck in – the weather's nice, and I'm sure Harry's dying for a game of Quidditch. Ginny, Luna, Hermione, there are also some spare clothes upstairs you can change into."

Hermione greeted Harry and turned around to see Luna standing alone underneath a large tree, looking up through the branches. She set her plate down on the table and they both walked over to ask how she was.

"I'm feeling superior," she explained in response to their question, "but I had been told my dad would be here."

"Er – he is. Right this way," he said, looking over at Hermione with a funny look on his face. As they walked together she noticed how truly tall and scrawny he was, but also how he stood taller and seemed much happier than she had ever seen him. As they walked to the edge of the garden Hermione spotted Xenophilius on his stomach, looking into a hole in the ground.

Luna wordlessly got down on her knees and asked, "What is it, Daddy?"

"Snuffenplumbs! Aren't they fascinating?"

"Er… what?" asked Harry, kneeling down as well.

"An ancient race of miniature people now thought to be extinct," he jabbered on. "I never thought I'd live to see the day… and to think they were here in Ottery St. Catchpole the whole time!"

"They're… they're just garden gnomes," said Ron incredulously. He had followed the trio into the garden out of curiosity.

"It is easy to mistake them as _Gernumbli gardensi_, but after years of experience extensively working with the species I can tell from the gnobbly feet of these beings that they are something entirely different! Perhaps I'll Apparate over to the house and grab a net – I would love to capture one and study its language. Who knows what headway I can make on such an unknown creature?" During the course of his speech several chickens had crossed the yard and started picking at his robes, which were a fine grass-green dotted with small bright yellow circles that looked like corn kernels.

Harry turned towards his two best friends and shrugged his shoulders. "We're going to go eat – come join us whenever you can," he offered the two Lovegoods.

"Oh, I'm not too hungry. I ate an exceptional amount of treacle at the feast," sighed Luna. Xenophilius was mumbling to himself, so the trio left the father and daughter together.

"Glad to see they're loony as ever," said Ron.

They sat down at the table, and Hermione noticed Fleur and Bill had arrived. They were sitting at the table, and Fleur held a little bundle in her arms which everyone was crowding around.

"'Er name iz 'Victoire,' for she was born on ze anniversary of ze battle," Fleur cooed, looking slim for only having given birth a month ago.

"She's beautiful," remarked Hermione. The baby had bright green eyes and silvery hair, her skin a soft pink.

"Yes, she does look like her mother," said Bill, pressing his lips to Fleur's forehead. Hermione smiled and wondered if she had the same look of contentment on her face when Severus kissed her like that.

She quickly dug into the food and said, "Harry, I've been meaning to talk to you about Lucius Malfoy."

Harry immediately looked both angry and exhausted. "You couldn't even imagine the uproar in the Auror department that's been going on for months. They say that the Malfoy family defected before the end of the war, and so any crimes they committed beforehand should be forgotten. But, I mean, he was there in the graveyard when Voldemort came back. His house was Voldemort's _headquarters_. He helped re-open the Chamber of Secrets, was part of the riot at the World Cup, fought us in the Department of Mysteries, and then broke out of Azkaban to help Voldemort gain power. They have loads of evidence against him, and releasing him on the basis of 'defecting' is rubbish."

"But that's the thing, Harry," said Bill, as he cut up the sponge-like Plimpy with his fork and knife. "There isn't any evidence, except for individual testimonial. He was clever enough to never admit to anything he was accused of, to cover his tracks, and to keep close ties to the Ministry to maintain a cover of innocence. It's obvious to which side he's leaning, but there is no proof. Even the Dark artifacts he's collected over the years are hidden somewhere, though Dad's tried several times to find them and failed. Get them, and you could prove _something_. They'd be the only hard evidence we'd have."

"The Ministry will always be corrupted," said Ginny. "Dad always said that even in its better years, there was always someone who wanted its powers to be directed towards things like allowing Muggle hunting, or relocating Centaurs from their ancestral lands. It's useless to get angry, Harry – nothing's going to change."

"I just thought that Kingsley would want the Death Eaters convicted and put in Azkaban, especially because he was part of the Order."

"Me too, mate," said Ron. "And if it had been only Malfoy, it would have been one thing. Nott and Rowle, now, that's rubbish."

She finished her meal before going into the house and changing into a pair of Ginny's jeans and an old pink blouse of her own that she had accidentally left during one of her stays. Ginny had already changed, and everyone else was down at the orchard as Mrs. Weasley cleaned off the long table in the garden.

Hermione walked down the path, past the broom shed, and saw several figures racing through the air on broomsticks. Harry was doing loops around everyone else with his Firebolt but Ginny was doing her best to keep up. She, though, had a certain agility that Harry didn't. George, Ron, and Bill were tossing around the Quaffle as well, laughing and shouting as they dropped it into the trees below.

Hermione sat on a blanket under the grove of trees with Angelina, Fleur, and Victoire, who was napping. The radio was turned on, and she recognized The Weird Sisters playing their new single over the small amount of static.

"Come on, Hermione!" exclaimed Bill. "We need another person to make it even!"

"I can't, I hate flying!" she replied.

"You're no fun!" Harry shouted down to her.

"Was I ever?" She laid down on her back and put her hands behind her head, cushioned by the soft grass underneath. It had been forever since she had gone outside, and the soft breeze, the sound of the wind rushing through the field around the paddock, and a full stomach lulled her into a deep sleep.

.

.

.

"Hermione, dear, wake up," said Mrs. Weasley, crouching over her and shaking her shoulder. She sat up and groggily blinked her eyes. "It's dinner time."

"Thanks," she said, standing up and realizing that everyone else had left. The sun was now setting over the Burrow, and she had to squint to see properly.

"Charlie and Percy both wanted to be here too, but they're busy with work, as usual," explained Mrs. Weasley.

"It's fine," replied Hermione, wondering how she could be so out of shape that walking up the hill to the tall and crooked house hindered her breathing. "It's really kind of you, to think of me and Luna too."

"Yes, well, your accomplishments deserve to be celebrated, and it wasn't too difficult to get everyone together. I did want to ask you something, Hermione." They were walking through the garden, past large bushes with bright red fruit and a trellis with a vine creeping up it. "Do you know where you will be living? I never heard your plans concerning your parents, and if you needed a place to stay, Arthur and I would be more than happy to let you live here with us. Our house is nearly empty as it is, and I have a feeling Ginny will be moving in with Harry."

"Well, I'd actually already found somewhere to live, so I think I'll be fine."

Mrs. Weasley opened up the back door and they both found that everyone was already sitting at the table, including Mr. Weasley. "Where is it that you _will _be living?" she asked, as Hermione helped her levitate the food to the table. There was roast lamb, gravy, redcurrant sauce, mashed turnip, and roast potatoes, as well as large portions of green beans, broccoli, carrots and peas. It was a veritable feast.

She noticed that everyone was paying attention to her, so she cleared her throat and said, "Well, um, I'm undertaking an apprenticeship at Hogwarts."

"Congratulations!" Mr. Weasley replied, good-naturedly.

"With who, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, chewing her roast lamb.

"Professor Snape. I plan on going into potion-making." The mother of seven frowned, while Ron laid down his fork as though he wasn't able to eat.

"I've never known you to be interested in that field."

"Hermione's brilliant," interjected Bill. "She can do whatever she likes." She noticed that his rather large portion of the roast was nearly uncooked.

"The old git hasn't been sacked yet?" asked George.

She turned bright red. "No, not yet," she said, smiling and giving a dry laugh.

"Well, this looks delicious, Molly," said Mr. Weasley as he eyed his plate. "And, it's good to see you Hermione." His hair had lightened considerably, and he was balding a little more than he had been.

"I know, it's been ages." She had sat down between him and Harry. Across from her were the Lovegoods, Ron, Bill, and Fleur. Mrs. Weasley sat at the other head, listening to George, Angelina, and Ginny discuss Quidditch. After a bit of silence, Mr. Weasley asked Luna what she would be doing.

"I enjoy exploration – I take after my mum, you know – and I would like to discover new magical species. Daddy's already made several discoveries, so I'll have large shoes to fill. Especially because he does have rather large feet."

George and Ron sniggered while Mrs. Weasley coughed slightly and began clearing the table. She brought out a large cake, which was an intricate scale replica of Hogwarts castle, complete with Quidditch pitch. Everyone was very impressed, and she looked rather pleased with herself.

"Girls, which parts would you like?"

"The pitch!" exclaimed Ginny. On an aside to Hermione and Luna, she said, "It's a tradition every year that the graduate gets to choose their favorite part of the castle to eat, and the pitch was never left for me!" Then, to her mother, she said, "No, only half – the other part's for Harry."

"I'll take the Astronomy Tower," said Luna. "I found that my thinking was always clearest up there, particularly because Nargles are frightened of extreme heights." Mrs. Weasley cut her a slice which must have required magic to stand up, for it was much taller than it was wide.

"The library," Hermione requested. She was given not only the fourth floor but also the fifth, sixth, and seventh, which were colored to look like cross sections into the rooms and corridors. Only the most obvious features – such as statues, bookcases, and doors – were apparent. Still, the amount of detail and the buttery taste were incredible, and she told Mrs. Weasley so.

"I've had years of practice," she said, smiling. "Now, Xenophilius, which portion would you like?"

"The Owlery, in the West Tower. Lovely things, owls are. Very personable, always good for a chat. I never kept the window open, though, and one day…. Poor, poor Lucine," he sniffed.

"Arthur?"

"The Great Hall, of course."

"As always. Bill?"

"The Headmaster's Office, I guess, since Percy's not here and he would usually take that…."

"Fleur?"

"I'll pass – ze dinner was razzer reech for me." She patted her completely flat stomach, as though suggesting she was full, and flipped her long hair back over her shoulder.

"Me and Angelina will take the Hospital Wing – spent as much time in there as in Filch's office."

"Ron?"

"Gryffindor Tower." He too was cut an enormously tall sliver of cake. His mother took the Kitchens and Entrance Hall, seemingly excited to eat her own creation.

"Our time at Hogwarts was wonderful, wasn't it, Arthur?"

"Of course, dear."

"Do you remember that one time, when you and I snuck out at night and you were caught by Apollyon Pringle? Your poor father was caned while I got in safely."

"We know, Mum, you've told us a million times," said George.

She scowled at him and said, "I'd rather you had only one or two rule-breaking stints. You gave us heart attacks, regularly."

"Maybe he would've benefited from some corporeal punishment like Dad did," Bill joked good-naturedly.

"He might not be too old for a lesson," said Mrs. Weasley. "And while we're eating dessert, Arthur and I should give our gifts." She pulled out her short wand and sent a package flying onto the table near Luna.

"I can't remember the last time I received a _present_," said Luna, in awe. She opened the small yellow box and pulled out a hideously orange piece of jewelry covered in white runic symbols.

"Fascinating!" exclaimed her father. "Perhaps there is some sort of code… tilt your head this way so I can read it more easily." She did as she was told, her head tilted nearly horizontal so that her hair was dragging in the icing of her cake to allow Xenophilius to decode the jumble of runes. He began mumbling under his breath. "Holly… goose pimples… vertigo…."

"It's a _brooch_, Luna, dear," Mrs. Weasley said, cocking her head with an expression of bewilderment on her face which she was trying to conceal. "Oh, never mind. Your turn, Hermione."

She was sent a package in a similar fashion, this one slightly larger than Luna's and in a tolerable shade of brown. "You needn't have gotten me anything, I hardly deserve-"

"It's not every day you graduate at the top of your class. Now, open it," she insisted. Hermione unwrapped the bulky package patiently, tearing away the paper to reveal a good-sized, rather Muggle-like camera with a large lens and cloth strap to put around her neck.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed.

"I visited the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office the other day – I still enjoy a chat with Perkins every once in a while, though he has gone rather deaf – and he went on about this. Someone brought in a Muggle camera that had been bewitched to cause the subject of the picture to fall unconscious when their picture was taken. We've removed the enchantments and charmed it so that you won't have to meddle with developing the pictures – they'll come out directly from the base of the camera."

"It's wonderful," she said, looking it over and twisting the lens. She smiled to herself when she considered taking a photograph of Severus – he would be furious!

Mrs. Weasley had a large smile on her face when she turned to her daughter, trying to contain her excitement. "Ginny, your father and I are rather proud of your accomplishments, and we know what you're planning on going into. And although we're a little hesitant, considering your safety is the most important think to us, we know that you'll do wonderfully." Hermione felt highly embarrassed – she didn't even know what Ginny was planning on doing. At the flick of Mrs. Weasley's wand, a broomstick flew down the stairs and hung over the table, a blue ribbon tied around the dark mahogany handle.

"Mum… Dad… it's the new Windcharmer!" she exclaimed, barely able to believe it, her eyes wide as though she felt that it would disappear if she blinked.

"Better zan my Mistral; I grew up on zat," said Fleur, looking slightly envious.

"That's top-notch!"

"Don't get too upset George, you might've gotten something too if you hadn't dropped out," his mother chided, still looking pleased with herself. "It's an upgrade on the Firebolt. We've been saving up for it, and Harry helped a lot too." He goofily grinned at Ginny, his eyes completely vacant as he watched her glowing face through his round glasses. "We know how much you want to play Quidditch."

"What team are you trying out for?" asked Hermione.

"Appleby Arrows and Caerphilly Catapults, but I really want to make the Holyhead Harpies."

"What position?"

"Seeker or Chaser – I don't really care, as long as I make it. Mum, Dad, can I take it out?" she asked breathlessly. Without a word her mother sent it flying towards the back door. Ginny jumped out of her chair and mounted the back of the broom, opened the door and flew out over the cornfield behind the Burrow. Nearly everyone else leapt out of their seat to leave the house and watch her doing loop-the-loops in the sky. While George was begging his little sister to let him have a go, Hermione ascended the creaking wooden stairs and entered Ginny's room to place her camera with the rest of her things. When she turned to leave, Ron was standing in the doorframe.

Hermione sat down on Ginny's bed, unsure of what to say. "Er… how is the Auror training going?"

"I'm giving it up," he said decidedly. "I've broken my arm five times, failed half my assignments, and been Stupefied more times than I can count. It's always been Harry's thing, not mine." He sat on the bed and looked down at his jeans before staring at the floral print of Ginny's bedspread.

"Well, what are you going to do, then?" She shifted around uncomfortably – they were dancing around the obvious issue, the thing he had come upstairs to talk to her about.

"Help George with the shop, I guess. He's had trouble with it, since Fred…." They didn't speak for what seemed like a brutally long time, before Ron brought up, "I never thought you would do Potions for a living."

"Neither did I," she said, simply.

And just like that, the tension between them snapped. "I'm sure Snape wants more than just an apprenticeship." Despite herself, she turned a brilliant crimson. He sat up straight and shifted away from her, a look of disgust and horror on his face. "Merlin's saggy left-"

"Ronald!"

"-you really are doing it with him!"

"No, listen, it doesn't mean-"

"Bloody hell! I can't even bloody imagine it! You've always hated him, too!" He now stood up as though he couldn't bear the thought of sitting next to her, and was pacing angrily.

"That's not-"

"I'm sure he's got you under some sort of spell, or potion, that sodding git-"

"Stop it!" she shouted, pointing her wand at him. "I've had it with your self-centered, immature behavior, and the tension between us! We'll never be friends again if you don't get over the fact that I _don't_ _want _to date you. As for me, things aren't going to change. I'm not what you need, and you had best just start looking for someone else instead of getting your hopes up. I'm not even a good catch - I'm not very sensible, or nice, or pretty, or even very tolerable. You need to drop it and man up – you're acting like a baby!" she exclaimed.

"But Snape-"

"My relationship with him is my own business. I would have told you – I want to be able to tell you things – but I couldn't, I can't." She rose and he stood up as if to stop her. She clenched her fists and threatened, "If you follow me, I'll hex you so badly that Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex will seem tame!"

She quickly left the house and walked through the gardens, looking up and watching Harry and Ginny, a hundred feet off the ground, pass around a small Snitch as they talked. Everyone else was on sitting in chairs in the orchard and talking, or lying on their back, stargazing. Fleur and the baby had already left, and Ron was now sitting next to his mother. Hermione sat next to a bush and against the wall surrounding the orchard so that she was out of sight, pulling her legs up to her chest. Why did Ron have to ruin such an enjoyable evening?

She looked up and noticed the waning moon, before hearing light footsteps come down the path behind her. Luna wordlessly sat down beside her, and when Hermione looked over at her she noticed how the moon glinted off of her large, luminous eyes. She was also still wearing her graduation robes and hat.

After a while, Luna said, lightly, "I heard about you and Professor Snape."

"Who told you?"

"Ginny – but don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Hermione leaned her head back against the wall, mentally taking a note to never tell Ginny anything ever again. Luna also tilted her head and looked back up at the sky, as though happy that she had told her, and Hermione wondered if that was all she was going to say. She could never tell with her – she was so peculiar. However, she said quietly, "I just wanted to let you know that I think it's sweet."

"What?" she asked, in disbelief, looking at her.

"I'm sure he's been awfully alone all of his life. And a lot of times, when people are alone, they can become rather bitter. He is a bit unkind, sometimes. But it's sweet that he chose you. Everyone deserves to be loved," she said, not taking her eyes from the sky.

Hermione looked down at the ground and smiled to herself. "Thank you, Luna." Suddenly, she heard Ginny sobbing. Hermione stood up to watch her and Harry drift down in circles to the ground.

"Ginny, what happened?" shouted Mrs. Weasley, who had gotten up out of her chair, fear on her face, and ran up to her daughter. Harry, however, was beaming, and Ginny had her arms around his neck as he held out a Snitch – the one Dumbledore had left him – to show it open, a small ring lying inside.

"Harry pro-proposed!" she cried, and everyone cheered. She started laughing in spite of herself, brushing her wet hair away from her face. Everyone surrounded the couple, hugging them both.

Her mother was in tears, hugging her daughter before stepping aside and proudly watching everyone swarm around them. She embraced her husband without taking her eyes from Ginny. "Can you believe it, Arthur?"

"Of course I can." His tongue pushed against the side of his cheek, like a young boy who was revealing a secret. "Harry asked my permission last week."

"And you _didn't tell me_!" she shrieked shrilly. Hermione smiled at them, happy for her friends. She had always assumed that they would get married, but she didn't expect it to happen so soon. Ron also seemed excited for his sister and best friend, even though Hermione remembered how much he had disliked the thought of them at the beginning. At least he had gone on to accept it, which made her feel better about her and Severus – perhaps he would come around in the end. She really did care about Ron, but he was making it difficult for her.

She hugged Harry, pressing her cheek to his. "That was clever of you," she said, smiling at him.

"I guess," he responded, giddy and unable to stop looking at Ginny.

"Hold on – could you tell me what time it is?"

"What? Oh." He looked down at the watch that Mrs. Weasley had given to him on his seventeenth birthday. "Nearly ten thirty."

"Oh, I've got to go!" she said, quickly hugging him again as George mussed his hair. She quickly jogged up the hill, but not before saying to the Weasley parents, "Thank you for everything!"

Soon enough, she had changed into her graduation outfit, thrown powder into the hearth and, after being consumed in flames, stepped out into Severus's living room. He was sitting in the armchair, dressed in his grey nightshirt and reading a book. He looked at her over the bridge of his nose and she wordlessly sat down in his lap after he had placed his book on the table beside him. Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and threw her white hat to the sofa, resting her back against one arm of the chair and her feet against the other.

"Tell me what the matter is," he said, knowing from the look on her face that something was not quite right.

She shook her head. "It's just… Ron."

"I couldn't _imagine_ Mr. Weasley acting out of line." His fingers had found the clasp to her cape, which he undid, tossing it over the arm of the sofa.

"He knows about us," she said, letting him loosen her tie and place it next to the cape, "and he's angry at me."

"He is jealous, more than angry. It is hardly worth the effort to worry."

She put her head against his shoulder and ran her fingers in circles over the buttons of his nightshirt. "It's just, every time I see him, things keep getting worse. He's always been jealous of me being with someone, even if I wasn't with anyone."

"I don't see why you're telling me."

"Who else am I supposed to tell? Crookshanks?"

"I wasn't suggesting you tell anyone. It's obvious that trying to put a stopper in Mr. Weasley's emotions will be a fruitless attempt, and so it is better to forget about it altogether." His fingers lightly running across her arm caused her to become more subdued. "Go take a shower, and then come to bed."

"Let me… let me put some of these things away first," she said. She had moved out, and now all of her possessions were splayed throughout Severus's normally tidy chambers. Severus begrudgingly had allowed Crookshanks to stay, demanding that the cat would have to spend most all of its time prowling the surrounding dungeons and as little time as possible in his presence, although the cat didn't seem like it minded. She felt guilty about the mess, and even though it was nearly time to go to bed she felt that the least she could do was clear out her trunk.

Hermione summoned it, sat on the floor, and dug through her trunk, separating out the things she would keep and those she would throw away. There were many empty ink bottles that immediately went into the trash, as well as torn up sheets of parchment and old Revealers. She couldn't just yet part with the DA coins, but the Quibbler with the article "Harry Potter Speaks Out at Last" quickly joined the rest of the papers in the bin. There was also a tiny box with the earrings she had worn to the Yule Ball, the periwinkle dress now long gone. Her purple beaded handbag was stuffed into a sock in the bottom of the chest, among several other articles of clothing.

"Running a day-care for toddlers?" Severus quipped, raising an eyebrow at the small hats and scarves next to her copy of the _Tales of Beedle the Bard_.

"I knit the clothing for the house-elves hoping that they would take it. They deserve to be freed, you know, instead of slaving away in the kitchens against their will."

He rolled his eyes at her. "Your crusade is a futile one." He watched as she looked up at him darkly and then pulled out a piece of parchment labeled "Dumbledore's Army." He said, "Your curse on Miss Edgecombe was rather clever."

"Thank you," she blushed. "I don't even like to think about my fifth year – Umbridge was unbearable. We did her in, though, in the end," she said, smiling.

"Dolores was one of the most insufferable witches I have ever made the acquaintance of."

"I think the reason they haven't given her to the Dementors is because there isn't a soul to suck out of her!" she exclaimed, putting the things she wanted to keep back into the chest with several loud thumps.

Severus lit a fire in the grate and directed the papers she had discarded into it, watching them go up in flame and then burn out. "Kingsley removed the Dementors from Azkaban last year."

"Oh." She stood up and levitated her trunk, moving it to the floor of Severus's closet. He was standing behind her, looking over her shoulder at old boxes stacked high up on shelves. There were also capes, long robes, and cloaks, all black or a shade of dark green, which hung from their hangers, as well as several shorter ones on the left which constituted her entire non-Muggle wardrobe.

"We'll have to do something about that," he said, as though he had read her mind, closing the closet door with his hand. He stood there and watched her enter the bathroom before sitting in bed and summoning the book he had been reading.

When she was finished she climbed into bed beside him, waiting until he put away the book before wrapping her arm around his stomach and saying, "Ginny and Harry are getting married." Her throat had unexpectedly tightened around the words, and she turned red.

"You seem upset."

"No, no. I'm not, really." She pressed her fingers against his slightly rounded stomach. She was always in a state of suspended disbelief when near him, wanting to make sure that he was really there and that he wasn't just a dream. Most of the time he reciprocated, his hand generally finding her hip and squeezing it as though he too had difficulty believing she lay there with him.

"Goodnight, then" he said, rolling on top of her and kissing her for the first time since she had come back.

"Goodnight," she whispered, as his cheek pressed against hers and his lips found the side of her neck. She softly kneaded his shoulders with her hands and he relaxed above her, and although he was heavy it was not at all uncomfortable to feel his weight on her, or to have his curtain of hair tickle the underside of her throat. She knew, however, that it would be a long time before she fell asleep.


	15. Lost in Time

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

"You needn't do this for me," said Hermione. "I could buy my own things, I don't-"

"Don't be difficult." Severus lead her through a dark alleyway and then onto a broader, busier street in the wizarding district of downtown London. She nearly slipped on the cobblestones. Not only was it slightly raining, but she was also in an area she had never visited and wanted to see everything. "You're in a rather poor financial situation-"

"I don't like to take charity."

"It's hardly charity. Has it ever crossed your mind that, perhaps, I wished to do something for you?" His voice was low as if he was attempting to keep his identity hidden, but it still seemed like everyone in the alley was listening to them, watching with curiosity as he opened the door to Gillegrey's Gowns, let her walk in first, and quickly joined her inside.

The shop had a low ceiling and the only light came from candles suspended in mid-air. It was not very wide but, as far as Hermione could see, there were hundreds of dresses and gowns hanging next to the dungeon-like walls. A young witch dressed in blue robes with brown trim stood up from behind the desk, smiling to greet her customers until she realized who they were.

"Hello, P-professor," she said, noticeably frightened of him, before nodding her head at Hermione. She had to try not to smile, as the woman had obviously been a student of his and did not expect to – or want to – see him again.

"Good afternoon, Miss Harris. My apprentice needs to be fitted for a new wardrobe."

"Yes, sir. Right away." She was a little shorter than Hermione, with light brown hair tied into a bun, green eyes, and comely features now rather strained with fright. "Come with me, please."

Hermione looked up at Severus, who seemed rather pleased with himself. She followed Miss Harris to the middle of the shop, noticing all the different fanciful gowns that she passed, some rather plain and others in bright colors or floral prints, decorated with ribbons, buttons, belts, and ruffles. The employee had her stand on a pedestal and, as Madam Malkin had, used magical measuring tape to size her. She always kept Hermione between herself and Severus, and he had sat down on a chair, very out of place next to a mannequin sporting a gown that continuously changed its color.

"Do you have a preference of style, or color?" asked Miss Harris, sticking her wand into her bun and looking from Hermione to Severus.

He had his elbow resting on the arm of the chair, his fingers pressed to his chin. "Perhaps you should go with her and tell her what it is you like."

Hermione nodded, feeling plain in her long black robes. Before they had walked away, another assistant, who had been digging around in the far reaches of the store, appeared. She was older and plumper than Miss Harris, a kind expression on her face.

"Mrs. Henry, nice to meet you," she said, shaking Hermione's hand. Several white feathers were sticking out of her hair and along her collar, making her looking like a mother hen. "What is it that you're looking for?"

"Um… just something simple and modest."

"You would look nice in a light blue, or gold," babbled Mrs. Henry. "Pink, perhaps? You're so pretty, dear, you could wear anything." Hermione nearly rolled her eyes.

"These are work robes, not for strolling in the garden," Severus interjected, to her relief.

"Of course. A dark hunter green, or midnight blue, would be most functional. How about a nice eggplant, dear? It would bring out those lovely brown eyes of yours. We have self-ironing robes, as well as stainless and flame retardant. Come along, I'll show you the selection we have to choose from." She bustled over to the back and Hermione followed, trying not to get lost in the swell of fabric surrounding them.

After going through what seemed like hundreds of gaudy, ridiculous robes she found several that were more appropriate to her taste and their function. She entered the dressing room near which Severus sat and tried on a dark burgundy, almost wine-colored robe with a black belt around her waist. It fit her well, and the color was nice. There were robes in an entire spectrum for her to choose from, but she felt that she looked best in dark greens, blues, purples, and even a burnt orange. She did, however, try on one gown with a light blue bodice, with trim along the waist which came to a point and silver fabric flowing from her hips. It was very elegant, and she felt that she should buy dress robes anyway. An occasion would surely arise where a Muggle-like cocktail dress would not suffice. She also tried on several traveling cloaks in different colors, deciding on getting only two in the end. A new nightdress was in order, so she selected an old-fashioned white chemise as well.

Miss Harris had long ago disappeared, and Mrs. Henry was all too happy to have the sale which had taken over an hour to finish. She bid the pair goodbye, telling them to come back soon. Hermione carried two small bags into which they had magically fit all twenty-some items Severus had bought for her.

"We have somewhere to visit," he said as they stepped into the rain, pulling the hood of his travelling cloak over his head and watching as she did the same with her new red cape.

"Where?" she asked, only to feel his forearm press itself under hers as he readied to Disapparate.

"Leaving so soon, my dear friend?" came a silky, light voice from behind them. Chills surged down Hermione's back, and Severus dropped his hand to his side before quickly turning around.

"Lucius." The man in front of them stood tall and elegant with his hand resting on his cane, a black hood pulled over his head, his graying hair gracefully swept back into a low ponytail. He was dressed in elegant blue robes, a white necktie with ruffles cascading down his front, and a gold chain running across his chest and affixed on either end to his cloak. Lucius's eyes lingered over Severus's, and then Hermione's.

"Odd company you are keeping these days." Severus did not comment, his black eyes penetrating the cold grey ones in front of him, his face stone-like. "What would compel you to consort with a student? A girl half your age? Potter's playmate, no less," he taunted softly, his voice full of arrogance. "Breaking all the usual rules, aren't we?"

Hermione clutched Severus's wrist, whispering in his ear, "Let's go, it doesn't matter what he says," but she knew he couldn't hear her through his rage.

"I am not the one breaking rules, Lucius," he hissed, edging in front of Hermione. "How very clever of you to play nice with the other children in order to weasel your way out of Azkaban. It will only be a matter of time before you see them again, once proof is found of your true allegiance."

"My 'true allegiance' has always been to my own desires," he said coolly. "However, I must say that my freedom was not handed to me, but earned. Potter _vouched _for your safety. How disgraceful, to fall to your knees before him and beg for mercy to not be thrown into Azkaban-"

"I hardlybelieve that you _earned _your leave. It would not be the first time you merely bought your way out of trouble."

Lucius shifted his weight from one leg to the other and smiled wolfishly. "The power of money was a notion never lost on myself." Severus was fuming, and Hermione could feel the pressure of his right hand pulling against hers as though ready to draw out his wand. Their adversary had noticed, and he ridiculed them. "It would be most prudent to not lose your temper, Severus."

"Severus, please," she whispered.

He stood less than a foot away from Lucius, his jaw tight and his expression livid. "Your confidence was always your greatest weakness, for it proves the exceptional extent to your ignorance."

Lucius's face tightened as well as he ground his teeth in anger. Before turning away, he said, "You would do best to listen to Potter's friend – better to run with your tail between your legs than to risk injury in a duel, although I wouldn't particularly mind seeing some harm befall your Mud-blood-"

Hermione closed her eyes as though in pain, turning slightly away from him. In an instant, Severus's wand was underneath Lucius's chin. "Say that word again, and I wouldn't mind going to Azkaban for something… unforgivable." The Pure-blood wizard stood there, his fingers pressing against the head of the cane until they turned white, and then left without another word.

A small crowd had formed around them during their argument, and as Lucius left it dispersed quickly. Severus wordlessly held out his arm and she placed her hand on top of his. They Disapparated, and when Hermione opened her eyes they were standing in the sitting room of an old house. It was dark inside because the windows had been boarded up, and she could hear the rain pouring down outside. Severus illuminated the tip of his wand as she did the same.

"You didn't have to do that for me," she said, setting her bags on the floor. "They're just words."

He held his wand out to the side, looking around the room. "You don't know Lucius."

To their right, behind a door, was a steep staircase which disappeared into the blackness of the second story, and through a small hallway running alongside the staircase was a kitchen. The light of her wand swept over the floor and ceiling, which were covered in cobwebs – it was obvious that no one had lived here in many years. The air was humid and musty, as though the doors and windows had not been opened in a long time. The floorboards creaked under her feet as she walked toward the stairs, running her hand along the banister which was covered in a fine layer of dust.

"I know where we are... I've been here before. I just can't remember where it is." She was a little too frightened to go upstairs first, so she instead inspected the room they were already in. There was a large armchair, threadbare sofa, and fireplace on one side, and all the walls were covered in shelves filled with leather-bound books. From the ceiling hung a large lamp, and Severus lit the candles inside. She stowed her wand, looking through the shelves as he watched her.

On one shelf, behind several nondescript books, there was a small oval picture frame which was lying on its back, the front covered with dust. "Can I?" she asked, motioning to pick it up. He nodded, and she wiped away the thick layer of grime. It was a Muggle photograph in an out-dated, orangey-yellow hue of a young boy with shoulder-length black hair, a scowl on his face. It was a picture of Severus. "This is you," she said, incredulously, shaking a little. "And this is your house."

"Spinner's End," he said.

Hermione frowned, feeling immensely saddened. Not only had the house fallen into disrepair, but she had always thought his mother would be here, and she obviously wasn't. "Why are we here?"

His hand rested upon the back of the sofa, and the light from the lamp hanging from the ceiling caused the area under his eyes to seem darker than usual. "I come here at the beginning of every summer. I promised my mother to take care of the place, although neither of us is attached to it, and in order to keep it I must visit once a year. Wizarding law mandates that a house must be occupied once a year in order to not be considered abandoned."

"Why do you want to keep it? Wouldn't it be easier to sell it?"

"This property is unsellable based on many different factors, but mainly because it is unfit to live in." She replaced the picture of Severus so that it stood vertically, discovering several other pictures behind stacks of books of an awkward, skinny boy in clothes that were the wrong size and hair that was too long. It upset her slightly that they were taken by a Muggle camera, for she would give anything to see him running around or crossing his arms as he scowled. There were no pictures of Eileen or Tobias, alone or together; not even a wedding picture.

When they had finished he walked up the stairs, bending his head forward a little so as not to hit it on the ceiling. Hermione heard the rain buffeting against the roof as they stood on the second floor landing. She noticed that the old wallpaper was peeling from the walls, and there were marks where old portraits had once hung. The floor beneath them was a grey, stained carpet that had, in some places, pulled away from the floorboards underneath. Hermione hadn't seen a house in such bad shape since she'd aided Mrs. Weasley in the effort to clean Grimmauld Place.

Severus walked up to the thin wooden door in front of them and turned the knob, ducking his head under the doorway as he crossed the threshold. In front of her was an old, moth-eaten mattress sitting in a frame, and dead bugs shriveled on the floor which had fallen from the spider webs on the ceiling. Severus's face was devoid of emotion, blank as though he was entirely removed from the scene.

Hermione, however, wanted to sink to her knees. She had been in this room before – in the way it was thirty years ago. "It's your room," she cried, in disbelief that she was here. There was nothing, however, except an empty closet, a bed, and a dresser. There wasn't even a window to look out of. She laid her hand on the handle of a small drawer and pulled, not shocked to see that it held nothing inside. "Why didn't you keep anything here?"

"It was all thrown out – it was not my choice. When my mother was sent to St. Mungo's, my father came back and rid the house of everything that would remind him of her. And me," he added, standing over the small bed and noticing an old rat's nest in the stuffing of his mattress.

"But how could he do that?" she exclaimed. "They were your things!"

He stood looking at her, his hands behind his back "They were just things."

"But your father didn't stay, did he?"

Severus shifted his weight, causing the wood to creak. "No, he did not."

"Where did you go when your parents weren't here? You weren't even out of school yet!"

"I was an adult – I had turned seventeen that January – and the house was legally mine. I didn't mind living here by myself for a summer." He motioned for her to leave, and they walked together down the narrow hallway parallel to the staircase "The water closet and the bathroom," he said, gesturing towards two doors at their left. "I haven't been in either room for years, and I'm certain a boggart has settled in under the sink." He opened another door which was in front of them and stepped into his parent's old bedroom, again expressionless as Hermione tried not to cry. It was a bitter nostalgic emotion that she didn't want to feel, but it was as forceful as a hand gripping tight at her throat. It reminded her too much of her own home, of her own parents, but it hurt more. Severus had been separated from his mother against his will, but unlike her he didn't have a Harry or Ron to fall back on. He was completely and utterly alone, as he always had been.

Her eyes blurred as she walked past the old bed and dresser, now adjusted to the darkness of the rooms. She opened the closet door and found it completely empty – not a scrap of paper remained from its past tenants. The realities he had shown her in the Pensieve were just ghosts of the past.

She sat on the floor, between the bed and closet, and heard a distant rumble of thunder. "Are you ill?" he asked, noticing the paleness of her face.

"I don't know." She closed her eyes as though she would be sick and said, "No – it just seems very real, and very unreal, at the same time. It's hard to believe someone grew up here," she said, thinking of how little the home was, how dreary, how much he was hated by his father. "This isn't a place to raise a child." She stifled her cries, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

"What's done is done," he said, crossing the room and standing at her feet. "Let's go." He held out his hand to lift her up and she accepted, but when she placed her right foot to steady herself it slipped, sliding forward slightly with the floorboard. Once she was safely on two feet both she and Severus bent down to inspect it.

"This board is smaller than the rest." She pushed it, and it slid horizontally in such a way that she could push her thumb against the exposed edge to lift it. Hermione did so, placing the piece of flooring to the side and pulling out her wand to see what was underneath. Sitting in the space below was a book, stacks of letters, and a small box. "_Wingardium Leviosa_," she whispered, levitating all of the objects onto the surrounding floor. "What do you think-" she began to ask, picking up a leather-bound novel and opening up to the first page. It immediately attacked her in a flurry of white paper, pulling at her hair and cutting across her hands as she held them to her face to protect it.

Severus immediately drew out his wand and exclaimed, "_Sedaro_!" The book fell to the floor with a loud thump and didn't move.

Hermione was frightened out of her wits, now freely crying. "Why would anyone _ever_-"

"Your hands," he ordered, pulling them into his and looking them over. He tapped his wand to her flesh and watched the cuts stitch back together slowly as she sniffed. "You must learn to be more careful! That spell may be decades old, and yet it was still effective."

"But why should I have expected them to be cursed?" she asked, in disbelief, her hands now folded in her lap.

"You should always be cautious when handling another witch's or wizard's things. You were supposed to learn that after meddling in my Pensieve the first time." He muttered several countercurses in the direction of the objects, watching them turn slightly red and then fade back to normal. "You should be able to handle them now." She watched Severus pick up the book and rest its spine on his knee, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he read. "It's a journal," he said. Hermione slid over to sit next to him, eyeing the thin script which filled the yellowed pages. "It's dated from the beginning of her marriage in 1955 until she was placed in the hospital in 1977."

"She couldn't have written in it often, then. It's not that thick."

"No," he said, flipping back through the pages. "Only once every few months."

She picked up the stack of about twenty letters which were tied together with string, scanning through them and noticing that they were nearly all addressed by the same neat hand. Out of curiosity, she opened it up and read the signature. "Dumbledore?" she asked. "What business would he have had with your mother?"

Severus flicked his wand in the direction of the letter she held in her hands, causing it to return to the envelope from where it came. "We will look through those at a later time," he said. He rose to his feet and helped her to her own, pointing his wand at the objects she had recovered and levitating them before replacing the floorboard where it had been. They walked down the stairs together, Hermione taking extra care not to trip because they were rather steep.

He set the trio of items on top of the kitchen table and watched Hermione sink into one of three chairs. She recalled his mother's memory of teaching him how to brew potions in this room, at the very stove he was resting his hand near. Several of the shelves were open, empty as the rest of the house was, and the space where the refrigerator would fit was vacant. The wall around them was covered in a light green paper decorated with different vegetables and herbs.

"It would be best to leave now – you must be hungry for dinner," he said, looking around the kitchen as the thunder rumbled once more.

"A little," she admitted, standing up and looking out into the hallway before realizing something. "You have a cupboard under the stairs?" she asked, walking out and kneeling down next to the small door, opening it carefully for she didn't know if it would be able to swing open without catching the wall.

"Yes; I spent much of my time as a child hidden in there. My father never thought to look for me in a cupboard. Miss Granger, what are you doing?"

She tried not to laugh, thinking of how ironic it all was. "Harry's uncle and aunt forced him to live in the cupboard under _their_ stairs." Several moths fluttered out as she crawled into the small space underneath. Hermione conjured a fat candle and lit it, requiring more light in order to see. She leaned back against the brick wall, careful not to sit in any cobwebs. Severus, to her surprise, knelt down and crawled in beside her, his head almost touching the low ceiling and both pairs of their legs sticking out into the small hallway. She placed her left hand on his forearm, stroking it fondly, and he summoned the little box from the kitchen table, letting it fall softly into Hermione's lap.

A crack of lightning struck nearby, causing the floor beneath them to shake and the candlelight to flicker, but it didn't deter Hermione from feeding her curiosity. The square box was made of wood and painted black, a small silver latch at the front keeping it closed. She flipped it up carefully and looked inside, and on top was a small rubber ball which she handed to Severus.

"Yours?" she asked, watching his nod. There was also an incredibly small stuffed bear, no bigger than her thumbnail. As it lay in her palm he tapped it with his wand, and it grew to a normal size. "He's adorable," she cooed, looking over the light grey bear, his left eye missing. There were also several shells of interesting shapes as well as bits of sea glass.

"We are not far from the sea," he explained. "We went to Scarborough when I was young, and when my father had business there."

"I could hardly imagine you at the beach," she said, smiling to herself. The brick behind them rattled again with the thunder, and she pulled out the rest of the contents. On top was the letter of Eileen Prince's N.E.W.T. results. "'Outstanding' in everything."

"My mother was one of the more brilliant witches to attend Hogwarts."

"And here are yours," she said, as she lifted away the old parchment. "Only an 'Acceptable' in Charms?" she asked, puzzled.

"It never suited me," he said, slightly defensive.

"Now I understand your predisposition against 'foolish wand-waving' and 'silly incantations.'" He glared at her darkly, and she blushed.

Hermione unfolded a piece of parchment, and to her delight she found a card which had been decorated by several flowers. "Look what you drew her for her birthday," she teased, noticing the message scrawled at the top. Underneath were letters Severus had sent her from Hogwarts, as well as his acceptance letter. She stopped and found, at the bottom, several more pictures. There was a young Severus, sitting on a swing-set in Muggle jeans and a thick red coat. In another picture, he sat on the kitchen table with a large silver spoon in his mouth. There was a small snapshot of him as an infant, asleep in his bed. "I can't believe you had your nose, even that young," she commented.

"My father's nose," he responded, almost as if he were disgusted.

She wondered if that was why he didn't seem to care about his appearance. Perhaps every time he looked in the mirror, he was reminded of his father. "What happened to him?" she asked.

He did not speak and she looked up at him, noticing how withdrawn and embittered his expression had become. "I hardly think you would find me to be the same man if you knew." Deep within, she knew that something of great consequence had happened that he didn't want to tell her, but she did not to push. If anything, the past few months with him had taught her that his answers would come not with questions, but with time.

The final photograph she held was of Eileen sitting on a chair, her dark hair parted down the middle and tossed over one shoulder, her large, dark eyes staring out from her long face, her thin hands clutched around a plump toddler that did not smile, but instead looked glumly up at the camera with his black eyes. She stared at the picture before replacing everything as she had found it, including the bear which she shrunk down to size so it would fit.

"My mother will enjoy seeing these again."

Hermione pressed her cheek to his shoulder and ran her thumb over the smooth wood. "Why would your mother leave them here?"

"Perhaps she didn't know whether she would be caught the night she poisoned my father, and so hid the things most important to her." He let out a lungful of air, and said, "As much as I would enjoy sitting in an old, cramped cupboard to indulge in my past, it is time to leave." They both gathered their things, and she took a last look around Spinner's End as he extinguished the candles in the lamp which hung from the sitting room ceiling. She clutched her bags in either hand, and he placed the items they had found into one of them. They Apparated to the Hogwarts Gate, the rain which seemed to cover all of England drizzling down in a fine mist. It seemed to catch at the frays of her hair, a fine dew quickly covering their cloaks, and as he used his wand to unseal the gate several droplets fell from its tip.

They walked alongside the forest, a thick fog sifting through the trees and their branches, and they couldn't even see the castle until they were right upon it. As they approached, Severus asked, "Would you like to learn the rest of my mother's story?"

Hermione looked up at him, rain dropping off of her chin and nose, his hair stringy despite the hood pulled over his head, and said, "More than anything."


	16. All This Time

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

The rainy weather had chilled them slightly, so Severus lit a fire in the grate. Hermione hung their cloaks on hooks near the doorway and then sat on the floor to dry off while he sent plates through to the kitchen. They came back filled with steaming shepherd's pie and mashed potatoes, which they devoured quickly and quietly. He poured her a glass of red wine from which she sipped, eager and anxious at the same time.

Hermione returned the plates through the fireplace, and Severus stood beside his Pensieve, pouring memories from vials into the glowing mixture and stirring with his wand. She stood next to him, the light playing across both of their faces

"I will require one of your own memories as well," he said. "The Headmaster's funeral, if you will."

She nodded, using her wand to extract it and tapping it into the Pensieve. "But what would that tell me of your mother?"

"She was there," he explained.

"And I would have noticed?"

"Perhaps not, but a Pensieve allows the viewer to explore a memory in depth, so it does not matter. If she was there, it will be recorded." He took her hand in his own, looking it over to make sure the cuts had healed properly, before bending over into the basin.

The first thing Hermione was aware of was Severus's mother standing in an empty corridor, her long wand clutched in her shaking hand. She wore a dated Hogwarts uniform comprised of a knee-length grey skirt, a white blouse with small bronze buttons, and a blue long-sleeved cardigan. Her black hair was braided down her back, and her face was flushed as though she had been running. Now trapped at the end of a corridor, she turned around and frantically searched for some way to escape her pursuer. Eileen had her hand on an empty classroom door, trying to yank it open in order to disappear inside. Several of the portraits were silently eyeing her with suspicion before looking back the way she came, only to see Tom Riddle striding in her direction.

"You dare _run_?" he mocked, shooting a red spell at her.

"_Protego!_" she exclaimed, deflecting it.

"Impressive magic for a – fourth year," he said, pausing only to aim a hex at her heart as he gained ground on her.

She deflected this once again, before sending out a string of defensive spells. The portraits began clamoring and shuffling about to find better frames to see the duel, and Tom stepped back a few feet to distance himself from her, still looking furious.

"No one – _no one_ – touches Lord Voldemort's possessions," he seethed, watching her tremble in fear. Hermione and Severus stood against the wall, between the two, as their spells ricocheted off the ceiling and caused several paintings to fall to the ground and shatter.

He shot a spell at her, causing her to double over in pain and slump to the floor. "Stop it!" she exclaimed, scrambling to get on her knees while still deflecting his spells. Eileen wondered if he would kill her as he had killed Myrtle, without a second thought. It had to have been easy, but satisfying, for he had murder in his eyes ever since he returned to Hogwarts the following September. She lifted her wand high as did he, both ready to strike, when they found themselves suddenly immobile.

A soft voice admonished, "That is enough." Dumbledore materialized between the two of them, looking from face to face in silence. With the slightest of motions he released them from their invisible bonds.

Tom dropped his hands to his side and stood stock-still, glancing past the Transfiguration Professor to glare at Eileen. "I was only protecting my things from this fourth year. She was attempting to steal a book of mine."

Without waiting, Dumbledore walked over to her and examined her. He ordered, "Please wait for me in my office, Tom, as I escort Miss Prince to the hospital wing so that her injury may be attended to." The Head Boy glared once again before turning on his heels and ascending the closest staircase.

Dumbledore directed her down several flights of stairs and then towards the hospital wing, his footsteps silenced by the golden slippers he wore to match his eggplant and gold robes. Hermione and Severus were not so quiet, and they listened closely to hear his hushed words.

"Stealing is not permitted at Hogwarts." Hermione stood next to the young Ravenclaw and noticed that she was struggling to not burst into tears from the shame of being caught and the pain of the injury, which must have been great for she was having difficulty breathing and was clutching her chest. "This behavior does not seem characteristic of you, Eileen, and I am fairly certain Tom would not attack a fellow student, especially for a possession as insignificant as a book. Perhaps there is something you wish to tell me?"

"No, sir" she gulped. It was more than obvious she was lying, but he did not let on that he noticed.

"Might you be able to tell me why you considered theft in the first place?"

"The book… interested me," she said, miserably failing at fabricating a story.

They stopped outside of the main door to the wing, and he turned to face her. "Please hand it to me." She hung her head as though finally defeated and, without looking at him, removed her hand from her stomach, reached into her cardigan, and pulled out a thin leather journal. Dumbledore turned it over in his hands and said, "You are an excellent student, Eileen, and all of your professors highly praise your work. It would be best not to present Professor Dippet with a reason to punish you." She nodded, her eyes still cast downwards, and entered the adjoining room by herself.

The memory faded, and another took its place. Eileen bounced a tiny Severus on her bony knee as she sat in Dumbledore's office. Her eyes were heavily bagged and dark, continuously flitting around the room as though someone would jump out at her at any moment. She was dressed in a black woolen sweater and skirt, her hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Severus sported a large, rounded belly, pink cheeks, and little flailing arms, one tiny hand in his mouth as he chewed on it, looking up at the Headmaster as though unsure what to make of him. Hermione knelt down beside Eileen, entirely infatuated with the baby, and reached out as though to touch him. Dumbledore's hand, however, appeared through hers, pulling the infant into his arms. He did not wince as Severus gripped his beard and pulled out some reddish-grey hairs.

"He's a charming fellow. Has he shown any indication of magical ability?"

After a moment's hesitation, Eileen said, "His bottle often moves from the shelf where I left it out of his reach and into his crib."

"Ah. We have a wizard, then." Severus's attention was focused on one of the rings Dumbledore wore on his right hand, and he attempted to grasp it with his uncoordinated fingers. "His name is quite interesting – may I ask after your inspiration?"

It was here that Eileen broke down, and the true purpose to her visit revealed in her small sobs. "He was s-supposed to be a M-muggle. He was s-supposed to be my severance f-from the wizarding w-world. I can't - I'm f-f-frightened-"

"I am aware of the recent deaths of your parents, but I do not believe that anything would be easier if you were to succeed in adopting a life as a Muggle." She cried into her handkerchief, and Dumbledore carried the nine-month-old over to the paned window, allowing him to lean out and press his palms against the colored glass.

"I think he did it as a w-warning, to s-show me what he c-could do to me or S-severus, if he wanted to."

"I do not doubt it." A long silence passed, during which the baby cooed and Fawkes, who sat on his perch, ruffled his feathers. "If what you have written to tell me is true – which I have no doubt it is – I made a grave error in judgment by not requiring you to explain yourself all those years ago."

"Is there anything we c-can do?" she asked, her eyes red and her face pale.

"It will not be easy to testify against Tom Riddle if there is no proof of his actions or intentions. I believe that he did, in fact, open the Chamber and cause the unfortunate events which followed, but the Ministry will be uninterested in reopening such a case unless you provide them with clear evidence." He began to hum half-heartedly, and Severus interested himself in the shiny fabric of the Headmaster's robes.

"I w-want him to p-pay for what he did to my parents, and my friends. Hagrid should be readmitted a wand, and his name cleared," she said, shaking. "And Myrtle… d-do you think she'd be able to give an account of her m-murder? Maybe her word would be enough for the M-ministry to investigate."

"Myrtle has, unfortunately, been unwilling to cooperate with anyone. She has found it rather difficult to come to terms with her death, which is quite understandable for such a young spirit, and has spent her time haunting a certain Olive Hornby."

"I haven't seen her since… she died," she said, holding a white handkerchief to her eye. "I don't even know how it h-happened."

"It is, perhaps, for the best," he said, walking towards Fawkes, whose perch was beside his desk, and offering him a small treat from his desk. "Young spirits are often confused and rather disagreeable when they lose their corporeal form. She may not be the person you remember her as, for she is not – ghosts are simply an impression of a person." She was silent as his pained light blue eyes seemed to look straight through her. "I wish you had spoken to me sooner. It is unfortunate that Professor Dippet took Tom's word as the truth, even though I voiced my suspicion. If only I had acted on it more strongly…. It was also ignorant of me to think he would attack a student for a mere diary, and for that I am deeply sorry." He was caressing Fawkes's neck, an air of sadness about him, while the Phoenix rubbed its beak against Severus's belly, causing the baby to giggle and squeal in delight.

"But if we could find his j-journal…."

"You are certain of its contents?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, nodding. "When I took the journal, there were a few moments that I was able to look through it. I remember that he wrote down information he thought was important – spells and potions he planned on using, and the people he's already recruited to forward his movement."

"He has named his followers Death Eaters," the Headmaster explained, sitting down in his chair. Severus looked up over the wooden desk at his mother, drumming his hands unceremoniously on the top drawer. "Tom's interest in dark magic is not surprising considering he has spent much of his time in Abraxas Malfoy's shadow, whose father was proprietor of Borgin and Burkes, a vendor of dark artifacts in Knockturn Alley where Tom worked for a brief period of time after leaving Hogwarts."

"I also remember," she said softly, "that there is a list of those who he believes stand between him and his ambition."

He looked at her knowingly. "And you are on this list?"

"Yes, sir. And so are you."

He stared down at the child before ruffling his hair and handing him back to his mother. "Hogwarts is one of the safest places in the wizarding world. If you ever require somewhere to stay, you need only ask. It is of utmost importance to keep the little one safe."

"Of course," she said, bringing him to her shoulder as he let out several small coughs, clinging to him as though he was all she had.

"Magic is a gift, Eileen. Teach him to respect his power, and to not exploit it, but above all teach him love, and teach him compassion, for these are the very lessons Tom Riddle never learned." She placed her son in her lap and brushed her finger across his red cheeks. The world that he had been born into was not the one she had wanted for him, and she felt that it was no one else's fault but her own. "Take care not to worry about the diary – there is a chance that it has been misplaced or discarded. It has been nearly fifteen years, after all." They both stood up as she prepared to leave, clutching a small purse in her hands. "If you ever require help, you need only send me an owl," he said, smiling and readjusting his half-moon spectacles.

Hermione's vision began to cloud, and she could no longer see the Headmaster. She blinked several times, and Eileen came back into view, now sitting in the armchair in Spinner's End, opening a letter which lay on top of a bundle of books. She was much prettier than she had been a moment ago. Her hair was thick, her eyebrows highly arched, her skin white and clear, her lips a dark red. Hermione assumed it was her ability as a Metamorphmagus rather than a true change in looks. She and Severus both stood over her shoulder so as to read the piece of parchment she held.

_To Mrs. Eileen Snape:_

_It is my hope that these books will offer some consolation. You need not return them, for I have no room in my personal bookcase as it is, and I am sure they will be of more use to you. I have also enclosed several sherbert lemons – perhaps Severus will enjoy them._

_Best regards,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Order of Merlin, First Class; Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; and Grand Sorcerer_

Eileen looked through the stack of books, flipping through each in turn. _Defense Against the Darkest Arts_, _The Importance of Protection_, and _Memoirs of a Metamorphmagus_. In the wrapping lay several yellow candies which she hid in her hand.

"Severus!" she called, and Hermione heard the loud thumping of footsteps descending the staircase before a young, thin boy appeared in front of her.

"What, mummy?" he asked. He was only about four years old, his hair down to his ears and his clothes made for someone several sizes larger. His attention went to the books, but Eileen quickly diverted him.

"Open your hand, I have something to give you," she said, and he did as he was told. She dropped the sherbert lemon in it, and his eyes lit up. He began unwrapping the plastic, and soon he had popped it into his mouth. "Give me a kiss, and then you can go to bed," she ordered. He obliged before running back the way he came, his little feet making noise on the floor directly above the sitting room as he entered his bedroom and climbed into bed.

Eileen picked up the books and sighed, placing them high up on a shelf against the wall. Hermione frowned, turning towards Severus. "Why didn't she want them?" she asked, for it was obvious by the placement of the gifts that she had no intention of looking through them. Severus's mother sat back down in the armchair, leaned her head against the back and closed her eyes. The memory quickly turned black.

"She had not used magic for several years. Dumbledore was attempting to make her protect herself, but she refused. She did not want my father to catch her, but she also incorrectly believed that ignoring the past would somehow lessen its effects."

"But she needed her magic then, more than ever."

In front of them now lay an impressive garden with large fountains and stone pathways, decorated by flowers of all colors and hedged in by manicured green bushes. To their left was a large white peacock which mewed loudly, surprising Hermione.

"The Malfoy Manor," she said, taking in the large brick mansion which was sprawled beyond the gardens. Crouched below the bushes in front of them sat Eileen, hiding in the shadows caused by the midday sun and wearing green robes several sizes too large for her. She pulled out a small mirror and held it in her hands as she closed her eyes.

Hermione watched as her legs grew longer and her body broader. The rest of her body evened out in proportion, and she held up the mirror so as to adjust her facial features. Her nose extended, eyes softened to a light grey, chin became blunt, and hair changed to the brightest blond. Clutched in her square, weathered palm was a cut-out from a newspaper of the man she wished to look like, and she held it along with the mirror in her thick fingers to make sure she had every detail correct.

She had become a Malfoy, but not one that Hermione recognized. "Abraxas?" she asked, and Severus nodded. Eileen hid both objects in her pocket and strode up the pathway, as confidently as she could manage. It was obvious she had difficulty adjusting to her new height. "Why did she do this?" asked Hermione, frustrated. "Didn't she know how dangerous it is?"

"My mother is highly intelligent, but I don't believe she has made a single correct decision in her entire life," replied Severus.

They followed her to the massive entryway of the manor, and she opened the doors without hesitating. Inside was a large holding room, the walls covered in tapestries, portraits, and sconces, the floor a fine marble. Overhead was a giant crystal chandelier, and from the room next to them came the sound of bare feet as they ran across the hard floor. A house-elf in a stained tea cozy appeared in front of them, immediately bowing over before asking, "Is there anything Dobby can bring Master?"

"Dobby!" she exclaimed softly, into Severus's ear. "He must have been going on _at least _fortyyears oldwhen I met him!" The house-elf's right ear flicked against an invisible itch as his bright green eyes stared into Eileen's.

She cleared her throat, satisfied to hear the deep tonality which issued from it, and said, "I have come home to find something the Dark Lord has left with me."

"Dobby is not supposed to know anything of his Master's relations with the Dark Lord," he said, recoiling from him as though expecting a punishment.

"It is _very_ important that I find it," she stressed.

"Perhaps Dobby's Master can look in the Room of Relics? Things which are to be hidden are kept there." And with that, he led Eileen through the elaborately decorated den and a dining room which was large enough to sit thirty. Severus followed close behind Hermione, and she felt shivers go through her as they arrived in the drawing room. She had been tortured here by Bellatrix, a little over a year ago. Or was it over thirty years from now?

The house-elf knelt on his knees and Eileen watched as he tapped three separate flagstones with his long, spindly fingers. A golden handle appeared at their intersection, and Dobby pulled at the small door to reveal a passageway.

"You are not to follow me or speak to anyone of this, Dobby. Do you understand?" she ordered. The house-elf nodded vigorously and disappeared quickly with a soft crack. Eileen descended the stairs into the room below, again followed closely behind by her unseen onlookers. During Hermione's short imprisonment in the manor, it had been converted into a prison cell, but at this time it was similar to the Room of Requirement's Room of Hidden Things. However, instead of being filled with useless items, it was full of dark objects and treasures of all sizes. They passed suits of armor, boxes of jewelry, and bookcases. Along the wall in front of them was an entire dragon hide, its green scales glistening in the flickering torchlight.

"Oh – Tom Riddle's diary!" exclaimed Hermione, hurrying over to the table on which it sat. She watched as Eileen found it quickly after she had, and picked it up. She breathed in deeply, closed her eyes, and then looked down at it. She opened the leather-bound diary and flipped through the pages.

It was empty.

But how could it be empty? He had filled every page with clues and references in books to Salazar. She madly looked through every page but found not one word within it, and set it back down. Hermione watched as Abraxas Malfoy's eyes welled with tears. She had risked so much to retrieve this stupid diary that had been wiped clean. Severus urged Hermione back up the stairs, and they waited at the top for his mother.

As she walked out of the room and closed the trapdoor behind her, a nine-year-old boy with blonde hair and grey eyes appeared at the doorframe to the dining room. He looked up at her with mistrust. "And who are you?"

Hermione realized with horror, at the same time Eileen did, that she had Metamorphosed back into herself without meaning to. "W-wait-" she stuttered, but the boy had already run out of the room, shouting for his mother. The boy had been Lucius.

Eileen did the first thing she could think of. She darted underneath the dining room table to hide, pulling at the robes which were much too large for her so that she would not be seen.

"Dobby!" she called, frantically.

The house-elf Apparated in front of her, for he was small enough to stand underneath the table, and his large eyes took in the sight of her with awe. "Dobby did not see Miss enter the Manor, he has only seen-" Realization dawned on him as he noticed the robes she wore, and he said, "Miss broke into Dobby's Master's house! Miss has been very bad!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm in trouble! Please, help me out of here!"

"Dobby can only take orders from his Master."

"Please!" she exclaimed, now crying. "If they find me, they'll have me killed!"

The house-elf stuck out his bottom lip in sympathy, the tip of his long nose almost touching hers as he leaned in close. In his scratchy, high-pitched voice, he said, "If Miss thinks of a place that Dobby can take her to be safe, he will." She nodded, his bony hand found hers, and they disappeared together just as the sound of hurried footsteps issued from the next room.

They appeared in Eileen's bedroom, and she threw her arms around the little creature as she wept. "Thank you, thank you!" she exclaimed.

"Dobby will have to shut his ears in the door for this, Miss," he said, beaming up at her as though he didn't mind at all.

"I'm sorry that I have gotten you into trouble. If-if there is anything I can do-"

"Dobby asks for nothing in return, Miss," he said, smiling again as he quickly Disapparated.

"So Voldemort hid his Horcrux with the Malfoys?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," said Severus. "Abraxas Malfoy, though not understanding the true meaning of the diary, would inform his son, Lucius, how to use it to reopen the Chamber of Secrets."

"By giving it to Ginny," she said.

"The Dark Lord had not forgotten how foolish and naive young girls are."

The sitting room of Spinner's End appeared, Eileen and Severus stacking Muggle playing cards end-on-end in several columns as she kept them up through magic. Her son looked to be about five years of age, his large black eyes and hooked nose almost too big for his long, thin face. Someone knocked on the door and the cards fell as her concentration was broken. She got to her feet and scooped Severus into her arms, pulling him to her hip even though he was slightly too large for it.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed, wriggling and pushing against her shoulder with his arms.

"Stop that," she insisted, drawing him closer and kissing his cheek. She opened the door, and Hermione looked past her to see a man dressed in black robes, a hood pulled over his head. Eileen immediately let go of her son and stood between him and the visitor, who was smirking malevolently at her. "Severus, go to your room." He stood there, looking past his mother into the face of a once-handsome man whose features where now thin and repulsive. "Now!" she pleaded, pushing him towards the staircase without looking away. He ran to the steps but sat on the third one, listening. "What are you here for?" she asked rudely, shaking with fear and anger.

"Now, now, Eileen," he said, walking through the doorway as she backed away, cowering before him. "It is best to watch your tongue rather than to say something regrettable."

His bony fingers reached into his cloak, fingering the handle of his wand and withdrawing it from the black fabric. A red spell hit her square in the face, and she fell against the back of the sofa and to the floor, clawing at her mouth which was now sealed shut. Hermione stood next to Severus, horrified at what was happening.

"That's better," he said quietly, over her muffled cries, as he sat down in the armchair by the fireplace. He levitated her and moved her onto the couch where she sat up across from him, helpless. "It was incredibly unintelligent of you to believe that you could fool me, Eileen," he mocked, his voice full of poison. She could only sit still, paralyzed by fear. "It seems you have given up magic, but at what cost? You are no longer safe, no longer protected – and neither is your son." His eyes sharply glanced at the entrance to the staircase, and then back to her. "It would be only too easy…."

Eileen's eyes filled with tears, and it made Hermione cry to see her sniff and wipe her eyes but be unable to truly weep because of the spell he had cast on her.

"However, that was not the intention of my visit. You always were rather officious, yes, but breaking into the Malfoy Manor was much more than I thought possible of you. Oh yes, I know," he crooned as she shook her head vigorously. "Their servant admitted to aiding you after some – coercion." She continued shaking her head, but he ignored it. "You thought you could touch Lord Voldemort's possessions without him knowing, without him feeling it instantly? _Crucio!_" he shouted, and Hermione watched Eileen fall to the floor, writhing in agony but unable to scream. He lifted the spell, his victim's eyes rolling around in her head before focusing on him, watching his movements in terror. "One day, you will realize my full power. You will have learned not to meddle in thing you shouldn't, for you will have lost everything you have to me. _Crucio!_" he called out, and for what seemed like hours he just watched her twist and contort unnaturally from the pain, her chest heaving from the lack of air. Hermione had to cover her mouth to impede her own cries. Voldemort removed the spell once more and stood over her body, looking down at her with disgust as she closed her eyes, trying to stay conscious. "I will not kill you, for you deserve to live in your misery. But if you are caught thwarting me once more, it won't matter where you go – I will find you, and I will kill you and your son."

He walked past her, and when he shut the door behind him Eileen's mouth opened wide as she gasped for breath as though drowning. She sobbed and shook uncontrollably, Severus running into her arms and allowing her to enfold him completely in her embrace. She rocked him, unsure what to do, terrified and hurting in every way possible.

Hermione pressed her forehead to Severus's shoulder, tears streaming down her face. "It's not fair," she said, watching the little boy wrap his arms around his mother's neck, unsure what was wrong.

"The Dark Lord was more merciful to her than to others who acted similarly." She looked into Severus's face, at how pained it was, before turning back and finding that they were again in Dumbledore's office. Severus, now fully grown, was sitting with his mother opposite the Headmaster. His expression was hard, unfathomable.

"So it is settled," Dumbledore affirmed, his hands folded on the desk in front of him. He slowly stood up, looking weary but still cheerful, and said, "I believe it is time to say goodbye. Take as long as you like." He touched Eileen's shoulder, as though to reassure her, and promptly left his office.

Mother and son turned to face each other, and she began trembling. She bit her bottom lip and ran her hands slowly over her only child's cheekbones, his nose, and his eyebrows, taking in every detail that she could as though trying to memorize everything. She tugged at his ear and cupped his chin as though he was a boy again, as affectionate as only a mother could be. He stared at her, expressionless, and the only sound he made was that of his breathing, as though counting each one, his black eyes unable to tear away from hers.

"Mum," he said, as though pleading, although Hermione didn't know what for. Not to go through with the plan? Not to baby him? Not to cry?

"I haven't l-lived a day in peace since I was young. Y-you know that, right?" He nodded, still silent, his hands clasped together tightly on his lap. "It will be b-better like this." Her hand found his temple, her fingers lovingly running through his hair. "I've put you in so much d-danger, your whole l-life; it's not fair that I'm allowed t-to hide, and you aren't."

"You're my mother," he said, simply. "I will do anything to protect you – even if it means not… not seeing you anymore. I am the most dangerous person to you now." She wept silently into her hand, leaning over in her chair and letting him embrace her, and Hermione watched as a tear leaked from his own eye, dripping off of the tip of his hooked nose and falling onto his mother's back. A terrible sadness caused her heart to sink deep into her chest, and her throat tightened so much that it hurt. "Perhaps… perhaps it will end, soon," he whispered.

"Yes," she said, pulling away from him. "Of c-course. Just don't… don't…."

"I will be fine," he reassured.

"When...?" asked Hermione, unable to choke out anything else.

"The First Wizarding War. The Dark Lord was killing daily, and I knew it was only a matter of time before…." He fell silent.

The younger Severus watched his inconsolable mother as she reached out to him, flattening his black robes and pressing her hand to his chest as though searching for his heart beat. "It doesn't m-matter what you d-do, or where y-you g-go," she stuttered, unable to control her grief, her hand still extended out in front of her. "Y-you're m-my son, and I'll always l-love you."

He let out a ragged gasp to catch his breath, and wrapped his arms around her one last time. "And I will always love you, Mother." After several minutes he kissed her cheek, stood up, and then opened the door.

The Headmaster stood on the landing below, his hands behind his back as he hummed to himself. When he heard Severus's steps he paused, turned to him, and waited for him to reach the landing where he stood. He placed his hand on his shoulder and said quietly, "Time passes quickly, although for better or for worse I am never sure. Therefore, it is most important to find solace in the small things in times such as these, Severus. You should be aware that Lily Potter remains safe with her husband and son, and that your mother will remain safe here."

Severus said nothing, but instead simply nodded in his direction and then descended the steps to the landing below.

"And Severus," called Dumbledore, waiting for him to turn around, "I had nearly forgotten. Professor Slughorn is retiring from his post as Potions Master once he is certain of a worthy replacement. It was only last week that I heard boastings from him of your talent in that particular subject, as you were the brightest student of the last decade, according to him." Severus looked down at the steps below him, back to Dumbledore, and then left without another word.

The Headmaster smiled to himself and slowly ascended the stairs. He closed the door behind him and wordlessly went through the cabinet beside his desk, handing a sniffling Eileen a small flask.

"Drink, if you will. It's a Calming Draught – you will require your strength." She nodded, and as she sipped she did become noticeably less anxious, a little color returning to her cheeks. "That's much better. Now, you are certain no one witnessed you enter the grounds?"

She nodded. "S-severus cast an Invisibility Charm on m-me."

"Excellent. You are wandless?" he asked, sitting down in his chair.

"Y-yes. I can buy a new one, if-"

"It will not be necessary," he assured kindly. "The position you are to fill does not require a wand. However, I hear you have retained the ability to perform some wandless magic?"

"Not much," she admitted, looking down at her knees and then back at him.

"Never fear. There will be much time for practice in the years to come. As long as you are able to Metamorphose, I believe now would be the best time to change. Are you ready?" She nodded, closed her eyes, and tilted her head upwards, placing her hands over her features so as to feel them mold into different ones.

Suddenly, Hermione felt wind whipping past her, and she realized she was standing on top of the Astronomy Tower. "No!" she exclaimed. "I didn't get to see-"

"Hush," admonished Severus, and she quickly understood the importance of this new memory – it was the night of the Headmaster's death. Severus must have been standing just underneath, listening as Dumbledore pleaded with Draco.

"Come over to the right side, Draco, and we can hide you more completely than you could possibly imagine." His weak eyes did not sway from the young Slytherin, but the memory was gone and Hermione and Severus were again in the Headmaster's office.

She watched the color of Eileen's skin turn from white to yellow, the texture from soft to that of rough parchment. Her body was only skin and bones, the body of an old woman. Her hair grayed slightly, lengthening down her back, and as she removed her hands to pull it into a bun Hermione recognized who she was.

Hermione clutched her head from the daze of the thoughts that were swimming through it. It was obvious, so obvious, the whole time. "'We can hide you more completely than you could possibly imagine,'" she whispered, repeating Dumbledore's words. "He said that to Malfoy because… because he'd done it before – for you. For your mother."

Eileen's eyes were smaller, although still black, and her eyebrows thin, her features shriveled. Her once pleasant characteristics had formed a beak-like nose that was a mirror of her son's, a short forehead, an unnaturally long neck, and a permanent scowl which caused her to look like a disgruntled bird.

"She's been hiding, all this time," said Hermione. "That's why Dumbledore always trusted you. He knew… he knew that you would never betray your mother."

The office had disappeared and, in its place, was the Entrance Hall with the threatening message that the Chamber had been reopened written in blood upon the wall. Hermione saw her thirteen-year-old self standing in the front, being interrogated by Severus himself as to why Mrs. Norris was petrified. Directly behind Harry and Ron stood his mother, looking over Hermione's shoulder at the message in terror. Next to her was Filch, furious about his cat.

"She sent you the Daily Prophets about Lucius through Filch, didn't she?" she asked, turning away from Severus to think, not needing affirmation from him to know it was true. "And… I have never seen her with a wand, even though she had placed a hex on nearly every book she could…. She always did clean with a feather duster – I thought it was odd, that she didn't use magic…. And her book, attacking me at Spinner's End. It all makes sense."

There was a flash of Dumbledore handing Eileen the diary, destroyed, a hole in its center, covered in ink and blood. Then Hermione heard soft sobbing and realized she was within her own memory of Dumbledore's funeral. Sitting in a row not far from her was Severus's mother, escorted by Filch and covered in a long, black knee-length veil.

Hermione was again lost in thought. "She was grieving, not only for Dumbledore but for you, because you had left Hogwarts with the Death Eaters," she said, facing Severus and touching his hand. "She lost her ability as a Metamorphmagus because of her grief, because her power had ebbed away, and she wore that veil to cover her features. Did… did she know that you had planned it?"

"I was sworn to secrecy," he replied, bitterly. "I returned as Headmaster the following year, and my own mother didn't know what to think."

"That's… I can't imagine," she said, a hand still clasped to her cheek. "Hagrid… he said there is no place safer than Hogwarts, if you wanted to hide something. I never… I never thought it could be hiding some_one_."

"You are correct – my mother has been in hiding, as the Hogwarts librarian," said Severus. "Her new name is an anagram, in the way that the Dark Lord fashioned one from his own name."

She sat on the ground, trembling from the realization. "Irma Pince," Hermione breathed. "I am Prince."


	17. Confluence

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Severus urged Hermione to her feet before taking them out of the Pensieve. Her legs nearly gave out, and she sank to the ground again before he pulled her up and led her to the couch.

"Sit here, you ridiculous girl," he ordered, standing and watching her to make sure she was all right.

Hermione sat on the edge, not acting as though she had heard him, her eyes blank as she regressed into her memory. "I just… I just can't…. How could I have known her for the same amount of time I have known you? I've never even thought about her as more than a… a fixture. All of the conversations I had with her! All the hours I spent in the library! How could I have been so stupid?" she cried.

"You hardly qualify as 'stupid.' Stop making a spectacle of it, Miss Granger."

"Don't… don't 'Miss Granger' me!" she exclaimed, turning towards him.

"You know perfectly well this was not a test of intelligence," he snapped, bending so that his face was close to hers, his hands gripping the arm of the sofa. "No one is knowledgeable of her true identity – not even Minerva." Severus backed away and stood near the mantel, looking into the fire as he did when he was lost in thought. He said, quietly, "It is not as obvious as you now think, Hermione."

"How often do you see her?" she asked, hugging one of the pillows to her chest as though she would vomit.

"I visit her several times a month, whenever most convenient." Severus sat in his armchair, watching Hermione carefully.

After several minutes she asked, "What… has she told you what she thinks of me?" She looked fearful, the palms of her hands on her flushed cheeks.

"You may ask her yourself, for we are visiting her tomorrow," he explained.

If she had looked ill before, she looked twice as sickly now. "Tomorrow?" she squeaked.

"Yes," he responded, looking pleased with himself. "You beleaguered me for months for this information, and now you seem to be overwhelmed by it. A simple Memory Charm could, however, remedy the situation."

"No!" she exclaimed, standing up. "I'm just… still… surprised," she explained, stepping towards his fireplace and placing her hand on the stone. She didn't know whether to burst into tears or to laugh – his mother, _his mother_. "I do have one question for you, though."

"Just one?" he asked. "It _is _only natural…."

"If Voldemort is gone, why doesn't your mother come out of hiding?"

Severus leaned back into his chair and folded his hands on his thigh. "She has no reason to leave a comfortable, paying, _safe _position at Hogwarts. She enjoys the proximity to me and all the information she could care to learn."

"But doesn't she wish she could look like herself again? Doesn't she feel… trapped here, as Madam Pince?"

"My mother is not the first to find solace within this school. It is her home, and I am unsure whether she would feel similarly anywhere else."

"But she can't be herself – no one even knows who she is," she whimpered quietly, as though she would cry.

"She has never wanted anything else." He was soon beside her, his cheek brushing hers and his lips pressing against her forehead. "Go to bed," he ordered simply. "Do not wait for me – I won't be back until my shift for patrol has ended, in several hours. There is no rest for the wicked," he ended, smirking slightly. She nodded, but knew sleep would be nearly impossible under her present condition.

As she readied herself for bed, she racked her brain for any interaction she had had with Madam Pince. She was content with the knowledge that not once during her seven years as a student had she been guilty of an overdue book. However, she remembered other things which made her wonder what the librarian thought of her; for instance, Madam Pince holding her signature from Lockhart to the light as though testing for forgery when she asked to borrow a copy of _Moste Potente Potions _in her second year. Had she and Severus been able to link together the book and his missing ingredients for the Polyjuice Potion? If they had, he had never acted upon the suspicions. And then, there had been that time when she had found Harry and the rest looking over Severus's copy of _Advanced Potion-Making_, known then as belonging to a certain "Half-Blood Prince." Had she known? Had she identified the book as her own, or her son's? Or had it been wrought unrecognizable by Severus's innumerable scrawled additions?

Hermione laid in bed, tossing and turning as her worries grew and gnawed at her insides. Would she be Eileen Prince, Severus's gentle but luckless nurturing mother? Or had she truly transformed into Irma Pince, the strict and permanently scowling librarian? Would she even approve of their relationship? That question became agonizing. Eileen had told Severus that he was her son, that she would always love him. _Yes, _she thought, _but that doesn't mean she would necessarily care for me_.

Severus entered his chambers four hours later to find Hermione curled up on the couch, staring into the fire. "Unable to sleep?" he asked.

"Too much on my mind," she explained.

"Hmm." He hung his cloak on the hook and walked into the small kitchen. "Tea?" he offered, obviously very tired.

"I really don't think I could drink anything." Severus put the kettle on the stove for himself and then pulled out several bottles of ingredients and a cauldron, setting them on the table. He added varying measurements of each before stirring twice and then leaving to take a quick shower. Before the water had begun boiling he was already in his grey nightshirt, sitting on the couch and pulling Hermione to his chest.

"I do enjoy your new nightdress," he said, running his hand along the shoulder of her white cotton chemise. She smiled into his neck, knowing that he would surely like it more if it was thrown haphazardly across the back of the couch.

Severus poured himself a cup of tea once the water was ready, downing it quickly and laying it and the kettle in the sink. He laid down on his back on the sofa, allowing Hermione to crawl into his arms before handing her a vial filled with the purple potion he had just made.

"You truly are wonderful," she said, downing the Sleeping Potion in one gulp and laying the container on the floor, immediately relaxing and running her thumb across his jawline. Severus kissed her, his hand on her cheek, his tongue parting her lips and meeting hers briefly. Hermione laid her head on his chest, and they both were soon sound asleep.

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Hermione stood in front of the small mirror in the bathroom, pulling her bushy hair back into a thick bun. It was the most manageable she could make it without using any product. She reflected, thinking about how Severus never commented on the way she looked – not that he (or she, for that matter) cared. But the way he looked at her, as though it was difficult to withdraw his gaze, made her feel as though she was the most beautiful being in the world.

The top of her green robes was fitted, the neck high and black buttons in a line from her waist upwards. A black belt accentuated her curves, and the green fabric fell to her knees. She didn't think she looked half bad, for someone who had only slept for six hours the night before.

"Time to go," Severus said, from his bedroom, fixing his necktie and tucking it under his jacket.

She opened the door and exited, feeling lightheadedness similar to the vertigo of being pulled out of the Pensieve. Her stomach was in knots, and she certainly would have thrown up if she had eaten anything for breakfast. Severus led her to the fireplace and tossed Floo Powder into the fire. Wordlessly, he stepped forward and was engulfed in green flame. Hermione took a deep breath and followed him, closing her eyes until she arrived on the other side.

The room she entered was open and faced the south, the yellow sunlight streaming in and brightening the walls which were painted a comparably cheery color. She could see out over the lake through the paned windows on the right which extended from a foot off the floor to the ceiling. Included in the view were the mountains beyond and parts of the forest. It was not unlike the room Hermione boarded in as Head Girl, but it was much larger. A small blue couch faced the fireplace and the main door was against the wall to their left. Behind the sofa was a small kitchenette, and against the far wall near the large windows was another doorway, to his mother's bedroom. In the corner between the panorama of the Hogwarts grounds and the fireplace was a small rocking chair, a wicker basket by its side with balls of yarn and the ends of knitting needles visible. On the end table by the couch rested a pair of glasses, a thick book, and a drained cup of tea.

The door to their left opened quietly and Hermione's face flushed with nervousness as who she had previously only thought to be Madam Pince entered her rooms. She looked from Severus to Hermione with the same suspicious gaze she imparted to every student at Hogwarts.

"You're so late," she said, slightly bitter and accusatory, "I'd thought you might have forgotten." She took off her feathered green hat, set it on the kitchen counter, and walked to stand between them, several heads shorter than Severus and looking rather testy. However, she looked up at her son and unexpectedly winked at him before turning away towards the fireplace.

Hermione watched as she slowly grew in height, her hair darkening from grey to black and her skin lightening to a pale white. She quickly pulled out her small bun and turned towards them both, folding Severus into an embrace. He was not as stiff as Hermione would have expected, kissing his mother on the cheek before letting go. They were now nearly the same height. She had grown from the small, hunched, old librarian into a tall elegant woman who was nearly regal, true to her maiden name. The only thing that was not flattering was her outfit, an ensemble of a plain grey blouse and floor-length skirt.

"Miss Hermione Granger," she said, taking one of Hermione's hands into her own. "How nice to _truly_ meet you."

Hermione's heart fluttered, for there was extreme kindness, and acceptance, in her tone. "Likewise," she replied, as though she could barely breathe.

"Sit down," Eileen insisted, watching her son obey her command and Hermione take a place by him. "Would either of you like tea? I never have visitors, so you must forgive me for being a poor hostess, dear," she said to Hermione, who flinched as Eileen slapped Severus's arm playfully, although the look on her face was a stern one. "You haven't visited me in a month! You so easily forget your own mother, Severus, you abuse me almost as much as those books you scribble in," she remarked bitterly, taking her drained teacup into the kitchen and pulling a kettle out of her cabinets.

Severus looked over at Hermione, acting as though he was put off, and then smirked slightly as she smiled. "End of term is a rather busy time, as you know. And you wrote in your books when you were younger, I won't have you forget," he said.

"Younger, yes. – when I was nearing _forty_, no."

"Perhaps you are becoming senile – you do turn seventy today. You haven't forgotten, have you?"

"Who could forget something of _that_ nature?" asked Eileen, dryly, as though hardly thrilled that it was her birthday.

Hermione listened to their playful banter with a smile she could barely conceal. Yesterday this time she didn't even have an inkling of whom or where Severus's mother was. She hardly looked older than fifty, but Hermione assumed that was due to her powers as a Metamorphmagus.

Eileen soon had a strong Earl Grey tea ready for them. She kissed Severus on the side of his forehead as she handed him his, ever the same loving mother that she had been for the past forty years. She fawned over him as though he was a boy rather than a much-feared Potions master. What would the students think if they knew how incredibly Severus Snape was loved by anyone, much less his mother?

"Cookies?" she offered, handing them both a plate of gingerbread. "I have quite a fondness for them, even though they're traditionally a holiday treat. Still, there's no reason not to eat them all year long."

"Of course," responded Severus, looking quite relaxed and helping himself to one.

Hermione watched them converse and found that there was so much to take in at once – Eileen's quick chatter, the lilt to her voice, her fast and intricate gesturing, and the glasses perched on the edge of her nose she'd forgotten to remove in excitement.

"You've been rather quiet, Miss Granger," remarked Eileen. "Is your tea all right?"

"It's… wonderful. And, please, call me Hermione."

"As you wish, my dear." She looked back to Severus, still rather thrilled that he was there, and pulled her face into a forced frown. "Your hair is so long – you should let me cut it."

"Mother-"

"Now, you shouldn't put up a fight. I know what's best for you."

"Hardly," he scoffed, and Eileen laughed as well, lightly, sweetly, for she was only joking. A movement by her feet caused Hermione to look down, and a small calico shorthaired cat jumped into the older woman's lap. It rubbed its head into her chest and then stepped into the lap of her son, repeating its now unwelcome act. White, black, and red hairs covered the front of his black jacket and the sleeves of his crossed arms. The cat turns its green eyes to an amused Hermione, stepped into her lap, and allowed itself to be petted, arching its back to meet her hand as it purred deeply.

"Your cat is beautiful," she said.

"Thank you," responded Eileen, with a smile. "His name is Kipling. You also have a cat, don't you?"

"Yes, his name is Crookshanks. He's a ginger cat, and part kneazle – you might have seen him around the castle, although he usually stays in the dungeons."

"I'm not particularly partial to the creature," muttered Severus, bitterly.

"You're not particularly partial to _anything_," his mother teased, watching him purse his lips.

Hermione smiled, looked up and realized that upon the mantelpiece, in its own display-case rested a thin white wand. "Whose wand is that?" she asked, puzzled.

"My own," Eileen explained, standing up and retrieving it carefully, holding it as though it was a treasure. "Professor Dumbledore insisted that I get one. It was after You-Know-Who had returned, and times were much more difficult. He said that he would feel better if I had a wand with which to protect myself. I don't usually use it, though – only if necessary." The handle was decorated with many small, concentric circles within several larger ones, as though the wood was water disturbed by many droplets of rain.

"It's beautiful," Hermione murmured.

"Hawthorn and Augurey feather, correct?" Severus asked.

She nodded. "Professor Dumbledore escorted me to Ollivander's, not a year before he disappeared. I changed my appearance and pretended to be a Frenchwoman who broke her wand, for it's said that Ollivander remembers every wand he has ever sold and would certainly not remember an 'Irma Pince.' I didn't want him to end up questioning his sanity," she giggled.

Kipling pressed his nose and face along the wand before reaching out a paw and batting the tip. Several golden sparks shot out of the end, causing him to jump into the air and then streak out of the room in fear. Eileen chuckled, setting her wand back in its case on the mantel.

"Would you like any more tea?" she asked both of them, refilling her own cup and taking the plate of gingerbread back into the kitchen. She moved with grace and an ease reserved for someone much younger than her. Hermione noticed that she was very happy, and it did not seem like it was just an effect of their visit but rather that she possessed, in general, a (rather un-Irma-like) cheery disposition.

When she sat back down beside her son, he said, "We have a gift for your birthday."

"Oh, you needn't-" she began, placing her hand on his arm.

"Don't fuss, Mother. It is merely something we found of yours. Hermione, in fact, was the one to find it." He reached within his cape and pulled out a small black box, a journal, and letters, and through her confusion Hermione realized it was what they recovered the day before.

"How did you…?" Eileen asked, speechless. She took the object into her lap and flicked open the silver latch.

"I took my yearly visit to Spinner's End yesterday, and Hermione found the loose floorboard in your room."

"Apparently my hiding place was not as secure as I thought. I had completely forgotten about this," she mumbled. "Oh… I'm sure you don't remember, but…." She held the small rubber ball in her palm. It was red, unblemished, and perfectly round. "The first time I ever saw you perform magic was with this," she said, handing it to him. "You were so little, and you had managed to bounce it onto the roof. You were devastated, but the next thing I knew it had jumped out of the gutter and floated into your hand. Oh, and your bear…."

Severus took the grey stuffed animal and charmed it to grow in size, handing it to his mother who cradled it as though it was a baby.

"Bernard… what a good friend. There was a time you wouldn't sleep without him. He looks as though he's been through a lot," she giggled. "The sea glass and shells we found in Scarborough…. You loved the water like any boy of that age would. You scared me to death, too, once. I couldn't find you – I thought you had drowned – and you turned up under the pier covered in sand and seaweed." She smiled to herself, saying, "Yes… the vacations in Scarborough were the best times."

Hermione watched as she sifted through pictures, Severus's and her own N.E.W.T. results, and the birthday card he had drawn for her when he was just a boy.

"How precious… and here are some letters you sent me when you were a student. '_Dear Mum, you were right about Hogwarts-_'"

"Must you read them now?" he complained.

She gave him a stern look before folding up the parchment. "I shall save them for later, then," she sighed, "even though it _is _my birthday." After a moment of silence, she turned to Hermione and said, "Severus has told me you are to stay and take on an apprenticeship with him in order to become a Potions master."

"Yes, and I am… rather excited about it," she affirmed, sipping her tea.

"Do you know what you will be doing with that title?"

"Er… not r-really," she stuttered, looking up at Severus for help. "I supposed I could brew potions for Madam Pomfrey or teach, if Severus ever gains the Dark Arts position."

"Noble pursuits," she said, nodding to herself. "You would do best in positions to serve others, for it is in your nature to help. Oh, don't be embarrassed by my compliment," she said, reaching out her hand as though she wished to pat Hermione's knee as the young woman blushed. "I remember the hours you spent in the library trying your best – and succeeding – to solve many mysteries to help Mr. Potter. I am certain you are tired of hearing it, but you _are_ one of the brightest witches of your age. And, without you, I wouldn't have my Severus. I want to thank you for saving him."

Severus sported a mixed expression of amusement and pride as Hermione turned red. "Thank you," she replied, quietly, finding it difficult to swallow.

Their discussion then turned to books, Hogwarts, and more stories of Severus's childhood. It was not long before Kipling was back upon Eileen's knee, purring away, and soon enough the afternoon was gone.

Once it had become dark, the sconces on the wall automatically lit. Eileen turned towards the windows and realized that the sun was setting over the forest. "I've kept you so late!" she exclaimed.

"Surely, you feel entitled to keep us for however long you like, for it _is _your birthday," Severus smirked.

"You are so _snarky_," his mother jibed, mockingly. "How can you stand it?" she asked Hermione. She responded with a grin, watching Eileen stand up and following her lead. Severus rose to his feet as well, embracing his mother goodbye. "Please, visit again soon," she begged, taking Hermione into her arms as well.

"We will," she promised, following Severus into the green flames and vanishing from sight. They appeared in his chambers and she flopped down on the couch, looking up at the stone ceiling supported by thick wooden beams. "Your mother is… so sweet," she reflected, lifting her head and placing it against his thigh as he sat beside her. "And she's so witty! I wasn't expecting that… but I guess she _is _your mother."

He ran his fingers through the curls of her hair, rolling his eyes before closing them. "Yes, I suppose. Should I send for dinner? You must be famished, you've had nothing to eat but gingerbread."

"Dinner would be nice," she agreed, jumping up to find a piece of parchment and a quill to write out an order, and it was not long before she and Severus were quietly dining together, celebrating Eileen's birthday.

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Hermione knocked on the gigantic oak door, heard heavy footsteps from within, and smiled as Hagrid welcomed her into his cabin.

"Good ter see yeh, Hermione," he said, beckoning her inside. It was morning, but a fire was already lit and an immense cauldron was bubbling away with a soup inside, intended for whom or what Hermione had no idea. The groundskeeper was not the best cook, but she thought he could do better than the lumpy grey mixture which did not give off the most pleasant aroma. Fang wagged his tail wildly and emitted large booming barks in happiness.

"Good to see you too, Hagrid." She sat down on the over-sized wooden bench beside the enormous table, letting Fang rest his heavy head on her knees as he whined for attention. Hagrid sat down in his graying armchair, leaning forward and twiddling his thumbs as though nervous.

"I've been wantin ter talk to yeh. I've, uh, h-heard," he stammered, looking away as though incredibly anxious.

"Heard what?" she asked, scratching Fang's ear.

"I heard yeh've bin seein' Professor Snape." Hermione turned bright red, as did Hagrid. Never would she have guessed that he had wanted to talk to her about _this_. "P-professor McGonagall though' we all had the righ' ter know."

"Professor McGonagall told you? T-the _whole staff_ knows?" she gasped, horrified and putting her hands over her face as though trying to hide, her stomach dropping as though she had missed a step.

"Yeah. An' I told her it's none o' our business. Righ' mad, she was."

"Oh, Hagrid," she said, thankful through her misery, "you didn't have to do that for me!"

He lowered his voice. "I jus' wanted to tell yeh tha' I'm proud of yeh, fer knowin' tha' people have two sides to 'em. It takes a righ' smart person to see the good in some people."

She blushed again. "Well, you taught me that, Hagrid. Something… something like a Flobberworm isn't everyone's favorite animal, but they can be… interesting, I suppose."

He beamed down at her, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes glistening. "I jus' though' yeh should know abou' it, jus'… jus' so yeh know. And yeh should also know if yeh ever need anyone ter talk to someone, or summat, I'm always here. Maybe Harry an' Ron should visit too – s'no' the same withou' seein' yeh all the time." Now they were able to speak freely about her friends which had graduated, the state of the forest, and various creatures he was hoping to incorporate into his lessons, and when she left she felt almost light-hearted. She was still extremely peeved, though, and wondered why McGonagall felt it was her duty to become so involved in her personal life.

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Hermione shook wildly as she unhooked the latch and allowed the tawny owl which had been pecking at the window to land on the work table behind her.

"Your N.E.W.T. results?" Severus asked knowingly, alerted by the sound of the beak on the glass and watching her nod. She had been working with him on a potion as she stared out the window, waiting patiently. Now, she looked as though she would be sick, and he smirked, accepting the envelope from the bird before it knocked over several ingredients and flew back out the way it came. He carefully turned the letter around in his hands and said, "If you are – unable to open it, perhaps I-"

"No," she insisted, snatching it from him, closing her eyes and fumbling to open the large wax seal. After taking a few seconds to scan her results she threw her arms around Severus's neck, sobbing inconsolably.

His hand found hers, gripping the parchment and wrenching it from her fist, holding it out behind her head so he could read it. "Hermione, every one of your grades is 'Outstanding!'"

"I k-know!" she wept. "They _must _be wrong, I couldn't have possibly scraped anything more than an 'Exceeds Expectations' for Defense, and then-"

"You are the most absurd creature I have ever known," he muttered, feeling her release her grip around his shoulders.

"I… I don't know. I wouldn't put it beyond them to make a few mistakes in the scoring." She took her N.E.W.T. results and sat in his armchair, staring at them until every letter was burned into her memory, as Severus went back to his work. After a while he stopped what he was doing, leaned over Hermione, and took the parchment from her grasp.

She glared at him, but he smugly kissed her forehead. "You should accept my congratulations, and we should officially commence your apprenticeship. It is, after all, the reason you are here." Hermione's glare lessened at the promise of learning, always the eager student. She joined him at the table and looked down into the cauldron before her. "You have not seen this potion for several years, but perhaps you may be able to identify it."

"Draught of Youth," she answered immediately, her attention focused solely on him. "It gives the drinker feelings of euphoria and encourages imagination as well as emotional libration. Overdoses, however, can have adverse mental side effects such as reckless behavior and carelessness, and in extreme cases can also cause physical transformation into the form of one's younger self. It is really only recommended as a counteracting agent for the Draught of Age."

"Now tell me, what are the main ingredients?"

"Buttercups, Angora rabbit wool, root of ash, and a rather large amount of sugar, among other things."

"When would one know that it has aged sufficiently?"

"It will have reached a light yellow color, which generally takes up to four months."

"Very good," he said, under his breath, lowering his eyes as though sizing her up. "You will certainly be ready within the next four years, if not three. However, time _is_ of the essence, and I expect three full pages on the effects of age-altering potions two days from now."

"But couldn't I just _orally _deliver my answer? It would be rather easier-"

"Anyone who knew you would understand that you were… sufficiently, if not overly, loquacious. The purpose of the essay is to train you to organize your thoughts on paper. It is not _supposed _to be easy. In fact, if anything is too easy, that signifies that we are wasting time. Attaining the title of Potions master is very difficult, but quite rewarding." He took on his lecturing tone, but she held on to every word. "Some wizards make the argument that the art of potion-making necessitates the least magical skill, for all that is required is the addition of several ingredients in the correct order to make a successful brew. I, however, say differently. A Muggle could pick up a wand and force magic from it, but he could not prepare the most rudimentary of potions. It requires the infusion of magic, transferred from the hands of the witch or wizard to the ingredients, the cauldron, the ladle," he said, touching all of these things, "to work. It is an art-form reserved for the patient, the practical, and the powerful – those who are capable of a lifetime in servitude to planning and organization, find thrill in the difficult procurement of rare ingredients, and can identify with a critical eye the most subtle of details, the most nominal of hints." He picked up the cauldron and, after placing a charm which would act as an invisible lid, stored it in a cabinet on the far right of the small kitchen. She had never heard him so impassioned before, and it surprised her that he would speak so _lovingly_, in a way, towards his craft. "Now, Miss Granger," he said, walking towards her and folding her in his arms, "do you believe you will be able to fulfill those requirements?"

His lips savored hers unexpectedly, and she said, "I do. I should hope I can."

His hand on her face never failed to make her quiver, and now was no exception. "Four years is hardly any time at all – it is merely half the time you spent at Hogwarts."

She kissed his chin, his bottom lip, his handsome nose, before whispering, "I can't wait."


	18. The Best Part

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

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Four Years Later

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The August heat in downtown London was stifling as Hermione wove her way out of the crowd leaving St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The Muggles walking through the streets didn't seem to notice her lime green robes which signified her position as a Healer. They also wouldn't have noticed the small cauldron underneath the insignia of the hospital, a crossed bone and wand, which would have told them that she was more specifically a Potions Mediwitch.

She worked as part of a veritable legion of potioneers which were the very backbone of St Mungo's. There was the mundane, necessary Pepper-Up for cold season, Calming Draughts for those with anxiety, and Blood-Replenishing for more severe accidents. However, there were many serious, rare maladies which required constant research and innovation, and this was where Hermione shined. Already she had scaled the ranks, showing her promise of intelligence, hard work, and good judgment as she healed strange case after the other. Every day was a constant test of her skill, and she relished it all.

Hermione stepped into an alleyway and Disapparated, nearly instantaneously appearing in Diagon Alley for it was only several blocks away. The heat, however, would not have allowed for a comfortable trip on foot. She stepped into Slug & Jiggers Apothecary which was kept nearly as cold as a refrigerator, and for that she was thankful. Over the years she learned the importance of maintaining a proper temperature so the ingredients would not spoil. Using the dungeons for Potions was not merely an aesthetic choice but essential to preserving all the supplies which the students used through the year. The offices where Hermione worked were similarly located beneath St Mungo's and so stayed properly cool.

The interior to the apothecary was analogous to Severus's Office. There were rows upon rows of creatures and parts of them in jars, once unfamiliar to her and now items she used daily. It was exciting to her, for she need only look at one to think of an innumerable list of potions in which she could use it.

"Miss Granger, what can I get for you?" asked Mr. Miraphorus, the owner of the shop. He was rather old, graying and slightly hunched over, but he sported a very cheerful disposition. She was almost a weekly visitor to the store, ordering ingredients either for her work or Severus's, and so they were on friendly terms.

"Would you happen to have a kilo of powdered Griffin claw?"

"Of course." He pulled out a large paper bag and walked towards the back in his peculiar, tottering gait, tapping a jar with his wand so that it levitated and poured out a chalky, grey substance. "Everything all right at St Mungo's?" he asked.

"Yes, although there is a bad bout of dragon pox going around. We've been going through a lot of Strengthening Solution, hence the shortage of powdered claw."

"I wouldn't fancy catching that!" he exclaimed, chuckling slightly. "Will this be all?" he asked as the jar set itself upright on the shelf and he carried the sack towards the register. Miraphorus poked it with his wand and it sealed itself. "Not low on salamander's blood?"

"No, not today," she replied, smiling and pulling out her coin purse.

"It'll be 3 Galleons, 7 Sickles."

"Thank you," she said, handing him four Galleons and receiving the change. She left the store and threaded through the usual bustle of Diagon Alley, undoubtedly the most popular string of shops in wizarding London. As usual, she looked in the windows of Potage's Cauldron Shop and Flourish & Blotts but saw nothing that interested her.

A voice beside her exclaimed, "Hermione!" She turned to see Neville leaving Obscurus Books, several hardbacks stacked in his arms so high that she wondered how they didn't fall.

"Neville! Let me help you with those!" she exclaimed, taking some of the volumes and hugging him awkwardly with one arm.

"Would you mind helping me to the Leaky Cauldron?" he asked.

"Not a bit." They began walking in that direction, passing familiar and unfamiliar faces alike. She found it funny to see him dressed in brown trousers, a white buttoned shirt, and a dark green tie, his hair smoothed over to one side of his head. "So what's been going on? I don't think I've seen you since your wedding." As she placed her package on the top book in her pile, she noticed the lettering was printed in metallic green and decorated with vines and leaves.

"Not much, just finally settled in above the restaurant, and…." She looked over at him, and he was holding out a book to show her. It was titled _A Guide to Magical Parenting_.

"Congratulations!" she exclaimed as they walked through the brick wall towards the back of the Leaky Cauldron. "When did you find out?"

"Last week," he replied, blushing slightly. "Hannah and I are really excited about it."

"That's so great! Have you talked to Ginny and Harry, they'd love-"

"They actually were just stopping by when I left for the bookstore; they're probably still here." He led her through the kitchens, from which the sounds of pans clanking together and the strong smell of garlic issued, out into the main part of the pub where a small group was sitting at a table. She smiled as Harry rose to give her a hug, voicing his happiness that she was there even though it hadn't been long since she had seen them. His and Ginny's birthdays had just come and gone, and she visited the family then. Harry had grown into his height, no longer the scraggly adolescent from his Hogwarts years, and was dressed in the robes of an Auror. Ginny remained seated, a black pram between them.

"You can pick him up if you like, he just woke from his nap," she offered, looking happier than she ever had. Harry sat across from her, taking her hand in his upon the table. He, too, looked exceptionally proud. However, there was a melancholy look behind his green eyes that had been there ever since Hermione could remember. It was the effect of losing so much at such a young age, and she feared he would never look truly happy.

Hermione set the books and powder on the table, leaned over, and took the little black-haired baby into her arms. "He's handsome as always," she cooed as the baby fussed. "He's four months old now, right?"

"Yes, he is."

Hannah, who had been busy with several other customers, now came to their table. She greeted Hermione as all the others had and asked the group, "Is there anything I can get you? On the house, of course." She then bent over James and took his hand in hers, mumbling sweet things to him to make him smile.

"I think we could all use some water," suggested Neville, kissing his wife on the cheek. "I'll get it, you stay here."

Hannah stood up straight, tying her blonde hair back into a ponytail. "Hot out, isn't it?"

"If you ever need to get out of the city, let us know," offered Ginny. "It's a bit cooler back home."

"You're living where, exactly?" she asked.

"Near Godric's Hollow," explained Harry. "It's a new, smaller wizarding community, but with lots of space. It's a good area for Ginny to practice for Quidditch, at any rate."

"Although I don't know if I'll be back on a broom anytime soon," Ginny quipped, looking at James lovingly.

"Neville and I always listened to the games. Bringing the Holyhead Harpies that far into the finals was spectacular!" Hannah exclaimed.

"Well, you know… It was the team, not just me. And I had good support at home," she said, looking at Harry and squeezing his hand.

"How's the Ministry these days?" asked Hermione. "I've been reading good things about you in the Prophet, so you must be doing well," she laughed.

"It's been fine, but I've taken off a lot of time to be home."

"Ron's been trying to move in with us," giggled Ginny. "He doesn't really like the flat he's renting, but he can't stand the idea of living with Mum and Dad."

"How is Ron?" Hermione asked.

"He's seeing a Muggle girl," explained Ginny. "We all went out to eat once, and she seems nice. Incredibly thick – dumber than a bag of Dungbombs – but very, very sweet. Dad, of course, is trying to arrange the marriage already. I'm surprised he didn't marry a Muggle himself, considering how much he loves them." They all laughed, and Hermione was glad that, maybe, things wouldn't be so awkward between her and Ron anymore.

The baby coughed and began to cry, and Harry reached out to relieve her of the infant. Neville returned with the water, handing everyone a glass.

When he turned to Hermione, he asked, suddenly very excited, "Did you hear about Snitseed?" Hannah rolled her eyes, as though she had heard about it one too many times, and excused herself to check up on the kitchen and the staff. He continued on, though, as if nothing had happened. "They've been experimenting in Norway, and they've come up with a plant whose bite acts as a sedative!"

"Really?" she asked, genuinely intrigued. The Potters were now talking between themselves, giving James a bottle with as much joy as though it was the first time they ever had.

Neville was extremely enthused as he continued to explain. "Yes – they grow in bunches on a vine, like grapes, and they turn from green to red when ripe. Once mature they grow small propellers, but can only fly a distance of about twenty feet. The brighter red they are, the more potent the bite." He paused and then asked, "Could you imagine their use at St Mungo's?"

She had remained standing, but now sat down in a chair. "If we could successfully raise and store them, it would be much easier – and maybe less costly – than to keep using a Calming Draught. They sound like they wouldn't be difficult to administer, either."

"Exactly. And the bite is virtually painless with almost immediate effect – simpler than making someone who may be incapacitated drink a potion which might not go down too easily."

"I'll have to bring it up with the Healer-in-Charge. It might even have usage as a potions ingredient. Snitseed, is it?"

"Yes – I could send you the article, if you want."

"That'd be wonderful."

After another hour of catching up they all departed, needing to run errands or get back to work. Hermione Apparated to the Hogwarts gates, entering through them and making her way to the castle. It looked exactly the same as it had the first day she had entered it, and she was sure it would continue to do so long after she was gone.

It was late afternoon, the sun beginning to show signs of setting. She generally took the morning shift at work because it allowed her to spend a free afternoon with Severus, although that didn't prevent her from working nights every once in a while.

The dungeons were wonderfully cool after the difficult hike up to the castle. Hermione entered the living room which had become their own, decorated with pictures she had taken with the Muggle camera Mr. Weasley had given to her for graduation. Out of small frames stared her friends, Crookshanks, and even Eileen, who had allowed a picture. The one she loved the most, though, was one that she could not let Severus know she had. It was of him sitting in his office, correcting his students' work, his eyebrows furrowed and his body bent over the desk, the sunlight from the small window above falling upon his back. The photograph was currently tucked into the journal she kept, well-hidden from view.

She set the bag of powder down next to the fireplace so she wouldn't forget it on her way to work the next morning. Severus had been sitting in his armchair, but quickly put down the book he had been reading. He stood up to greet her, asking what she had bought.

Before she could answer, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his lips already on her throat, and she wondered what it was that had excited him so. Their need for each other recently had become insatiable, so his lust was not so out of the ordinary. She felt his leg brushed past hers, and she teased, "Is that a wand in your pocket or are you just happy to-" He cut off her words with a kiss, undoing several buttons at her neck in search of the white skin underneath.

She stepped out of her black shoes and watched as he did the same, both of them now slowly moving towards the bedroom, shedding layer after layer of their outfits until they landed in their bed. Severus laid on his back and she on his stomach, her legs straddling his hips. She could feel his hands rush up her back, finding the clasp on her white bra and undoing it. Hermione sat up, tossed the undergarment aside, and let him savor her with his hands, his eyes, his mouth. Was there a place that he had neglected to kiss her, a place he hadn't touched before? She couldn't think of an exception, shivering as his lips pressed against her throat, her collarbone, the side of her neck.

Soon, neither of them could wait any longer. She helped take off his black boxers before she removed her knickers, reaching down between her legs to guide him. He entered her until she had taken him all, and they gasped together from the sensation. She rocked forward with her weight pressing against where they met, her hands on his shoulders. What unraveled her senses most was the sound of his labored breathing, when he moaned for her, when his eyes were closed in pure ecstasy and she heard his short, pitched gasping which she echoed. It was unbelievable to have Severus Snape become completely mindless below her, his black hair fanned out upon the pillow, to feel him grip her arms as though she was the only thing anchoring him to the bed, and to watch as his face twisted with insurmountable pleasure.

Severus moaned with his release and she panted into his neck as she laid on top of him, his hands moving down her hips, her back, and resting on her buttocks. He always loved to kiss her when they were through, as though no amount of love-making could tire him of his affections for her. She slid from him and they laid with their stomachs pressed together. She sucked his earlobe playfully, running her thumb under his jaw and feeling the faintest of shivers from his body as it responded to her touch. Hermione mentally remarked how he had filled out, no longer as skinny as she remembered him to be. But even though he was nearly twenty years older than her, he was not any more an old man than she was a young girl. Her fingers skirted over the soft skin of his back, knowing that, somehow, he would always be hers.

"You are beautiful," he murmured, one of his large hands on her back, her cheekbone resting upon the other.

"Not as handsome as you are," she replied, their noses touching briefly before their lips did, neither of them wishing to ever stop.

"What could you possibly find 'handsome' about me?"

His eyes were closed as she outlined his nose, his lips, his eyebrows, her touch lulling him into a blissful state. "What _isn't _handsome about you?" She did not lie, or stretch the truth. She doubted she would ever see a man with stronger, more intelligent features than his. He was not attractive in the conventional way, but, then, neither was she.

They were not tired, merely sated, and so Hermione spoke in low tones of her day as Severus twisted her hair between his fingers, engrossed in her words.

When she spoke about the Potters and their four-month-old, Severus asked, "Could they have picked a worse name for a child?"

"You mean 'James Sirius?'" she giggled, knowing how much he hated both namesakes. "It could be worse."

"Perhaps." Her stomach gurgled and he smirked, caressing it and asking, "Hungry?" She looked at him sheepishly before he bent down to kiss her breast, and then the curve of her belly, and then her navel, and then lower….

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"It's the usual flock of whining first years, all dunderheads, incompetent as toadstools… it's a wonder any one of them passes their O.W.L.s…" he grumbled, his head in Hermione's lap. The first two days of the new school year had left him exhausted and frustrated, and she had been listening to him complain ever since the last class of the day.

"They pass because you teach them, and you're an excellent professor," she said, convincingly, running her fingers through his hair to calm him.

He made a noise akin to snorting before muttering, "At least I'll have some peace for now."

"I do enjoy weekends, although I have a double night shift tomorrow which means I'll be coming home just about the time you're getting up."

A twinge of disappointment fell upon his face, before he tilted his head back to look at her. "It seems that we'll have to use our time wisely, then."

She bent over, kissing him deeply. "Don't we always?" His hand reached for hers, his thumb sweeping along her long, narrow palm. "Maybe we should go collecting this afternoon – it's a nice day outside, and we can get out of the castle for a while…."

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They both landed in a sunny meadow, a cool September breeze rushing through the tall, dying grasses at their feet. Gone were the delicate bluebells, foxglove, and wild roses of spring, replaced by more sturdy plants such as tall goldenrod and white clusters of yarrow. The soil was dark and moist, and the scent of the earth was delightfully pungent. Severus quickly pointed out several small white mushrooms among the leaf litter at the base of a tree and began pulling them out, leaving some to spore later on in the season.

Hermione had slung her old satchel around her neck. It was now filled with large glass bottles which clinked as she knelt down to the ground. She unscrewed the metal top to one of them and harvested several handfuls of purple asters. Everything from the petals to the roots had their own purpose in many different brews, and she greatly enjoyed the thought of wasting nothing. She also remembered the adage Severus used throughout her apprenticeship, and still – 'Potent ingredients are harvested by the hand of the brewer.'

Severus was hardly an outdoorsman, but all the same seemed to enjoy finding ingredients – even when he had the misfortune to catch his cape on thorns or cover his shoes in mud. It was strange, but for some reason things didn't seem to bother him as they used to.

Hermione noticed that he had found several patches of rare fall-blooming crocus and knelt down beside him. Her long brown dress, tied at the middle with a dark green sash, was already darkened at the knees from water seeping up from a saturated ground. The ground-hugging flowers before her were goblet-shaped with purple petals and striking yellow anthers.

"Those would be wonderful for a Smelling Serum," she suggested.

"Perhaps – but I have a drink I could make with these."

"What kind?"

"It is my own recipe – something between a wine and a champagne." He was gently pulling the crocuses out of the ground, roots and all, and placing them in a jar.

"How long does it take to make?" she asked, setting some into a container of her own.

"Several hours. It will be ready by dinner, although it is better paired with a dessert."

They found many more fall-blooming plants as well as various species of dead wood and vines, and stumbled upon a colony of wild gnomes who were collecting food to store for the harsh Scottish winter. Hermione noticed a pale yellow skull underneath a thorn bush and summoned it. Its sharp teeth and elongated structure told her it was that of a minx, another interesting find although it was unfortunate none of the fur was left.

Hermione and Severus filled the containers with moss, water which had collected in leaves, bird feathers, and woodlice, until there was no longer any space left even after adding magical extensions to the jars. It was almost as if she had an entire meadow stuffed into her satchel.

Her priority, once returning to the dungeons, was to empty them and sort everything they had found into individualized containers. Severus kept most all of his ingredients in his storeroom which connected his office to the Potions classroom, but kept the most expensive and rare in his chambers. As he cleaned off the crocuses and sliced the petals and thick, long leaves into strips, she labeled new vials and cleaned out old ingredients which had molded or disintegrated. Because of her need for cleanliness and her immaculate eye, the Potions rooms were looking much cleaner than they had in a very long time.

She watched as Severus added ground quartz, a dash of honey, some sneezewort, dried valerian, dragon's blood, and heartvine, boiling the mixture until it was the lightest of yellows, the color of white wine. He then chilled it by placing the cauldron in the icebox.

Dinner was brought to them by Missy, a rather overweight house-elf who asked them three times if they had everything they needed before leaving. They sat not at the table but in front of the fireplace, leaning against the couch as they sat on the floor, their plates in their laps. He was especially tender, kissing her cheek, taking her plates when she was finished and retrieving two slices of an apple tart from the fireplace. Severus, however, told her to wait as he poured them the drink he had made. She heard the _clink _of something hitting the bottom of a glass, but when she looked at them nothing was there.

He handed her the drink and they ate quietly, his eyes always going to hers when she tipped the rim back and swallowed. It fizzed slightly in her mouth, light and fresh but very sweet, perfect for pairing with a tart. Severus, for some reason, had turned ghostly white, and the more she drank the more the color left from his face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, touching his arm and sipping the rest of the drink. As she tilted the glass vertically, the same _clink _she had heard earlier caused her to look down. Among the frothy remains of her drink sat a single, gold band.

A ring.

It was so delicate, the vine pattern of her wand mirrored on the yellow metal. She scooped it out, her hands shaking and her eyes filling with tears, for she knew what it meant. Severus plucked it from her grasp, trembling no less than she was, and slid it onto her ring finger, folding her hand between two of his.

"Hermione… Miss Hermione Granger…" he said, searching for the right words, wanting it to be perfect. "Will you be my wife?"

She burst into tears, unable to believe that his sweaty hands were holding hers, that the words he was saying were coming through his lips. Hermione nodded vigorously, letting him embrace and hold her. "Yes, yes I will marry you!" She held out her hand behind his back, her cheek nestled against his neck, looking over his shoulder at the ring on her hand as the gold glistened in the firelight. "I n-never thought you would actually ask me," she whimpered softly, bringing her hand up to his hair, the other clutching his shoulder. She buried her nose against the warm skin beneath his ear, tears streaming from the corners of her closed eyes.

"I have been waiting for a long time, but I wanted to know that you wouldn't feel as if you were settling for me." Severus avoided her gaze. The sincere words seemed difficult for him to produce, spoken without the usual aloof eloquence and tone of indifference which he used as barriers between himself and everyone around him. "I wanted to know that you would be mine, that you wouldn't regret it." It was as though he felt he was baring all his vulnerabilities, all his weaknesses. But as the words fell into her ear, she smiled and wept harder. They were more precious to her than the ring – they were the true declaration of his love.

"I don't w-want anyone but you," she said, her cheeks stained with tears, her hands framing his face as though feeling it for the first time. "I never have. If anything, _you _would be settling. I'm just me. I'm just Hermione," she choked.

"No," he said. "You are my life now. You are the best part of me."


	19. Better Forgotten

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

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_Hermione Snape. Hermione Jean Snape. Hermione Jean Granger-Snape. _Any combination she thought of was absurd, fantastical. But here she stood inside Severus's closet, holding in her hands the bottom of a wedding dress which was hung up alongside her regular daywear. It was satin and the color of champagne, seasonal for early October, with straps and a v-neck. The fabric fell to the floor as one piece, a simple gown for a simple wedding. They would merely be going to the Ministry to sign the papers stating that they were husband and wife. There was to be no real ceremony, but Hermione didn't mind. The few friends that she had would understand his wish for privacy, and Eileen was joining them as Madam Pince to be a witness. She refused to allow them to wed without her there – it was, after all, the only time she would see her son get married.

"Hermione," Severus called softly from the other room. She quickly stuffed the dress back amongst the other clothes before walking into the living room. The radio was on an instrumental channel and Severus was splayed across the couch, a wine glass in his hand. She picked up her own on the table and sat on the edge of the seat, draining it. "Looking at that dress again?" he asked, and she blushed as though caught in a forbidden act. He smirked and flicked his wand over the back of the couch in the direction of the kitchen, a bottle of wine floating in mid-air towards them and refilling her glass before landing smoothly on the table.

"I'm sorry if I'm excited," she explained, putting her glass aside and lying next to him, "but it _is _tomorrow. If anything, you should be _more _excited." She smiled, pressing her nose to his chest.

"Our life is hardly going to change after signing a piece of parchment," he scoffed.

"Of course it will." Her cheeks were pink and her pleasure tangible. "Oh, I can't believe I'll be a wife, a mother-"

"A mother?" asked Severus, taken aback.

"Could you imagine? Little children running around with my frizzy hair and your large nose," she giggled, tapping his infamous feature unceremoniously.

He cradled her face with his fingers, looking deep into her eyes. "The wine must be stronger than I thought."

"Does that mean 'yes'?"

"Absolutely not."

Her smile faded. "But-"

"_Never_," he said, putting a strong, terse emphasis on the word.

"But-"

"I refuse. No, never," he said, drawing away, "and that is final."

She pushed away from him angrily and stood up. "But what about _me_?" she asked. "You will _not _be deciding what is final when it comes to this!"

He too was now on his feet. "Miss Granger, what could possibly have caused you to bring this to my attention the very _night_ before our nuptials?" She did not answer, infuriated.

"Give me a single reason why we can't have children."

"My time has passed," he explained. "I am much too old."

"You can never be too old to be a father."

"And as I am old, you are much too young-"

"I'm twenty-five! Ginny already had James, and she's a year younger than I am!"

"It is not age as much as maturity, Miss Granger," he explained impatiently, following her as she backed into the kitchen. "You can be childish, stubborn, impudent, and your temper-"

"_I _have a temper?" she mocked derisively, holding the stem of the glass between her fingers as if it were the handle of a wand. "The poor children you berate day in and day out, so much that they are frightened to come to class. You are so – cruel!"

"And yet you expect me to be a caring, tender father?" he asked, scathingly. "Your thoughts are deluded, and I can only hope that it the wine muddling your mind."

At his words she furiously threw the glass to the ground, watching as it shattered into pieces. It was one of the few times that she had seen him truly shocked, his mouth open slightly as though unsure what to say. She glared at him unwaveringly, tears coming into her piercing eyes, and she swiftly left the room, shutting herself in his bathroom.

Hermione tore off her robes, her necklace, her ring, and pulled her hair out of the bun it had been in. She sobbed, locking the door from the inside with a spell and laying her wand on a small shelf attached to the wall.

"Hermione." A soft, surprisingly calm voice issued from behind the door, muffled by the wood.

"I'm taking a shower," she insisted, her voice shaking, turning the knob for hot water so that the bathroom filled with steam. Who was he to decide for both of them something of this magnitude, something that she wanted more than she could say?

After she had finished her shower Hermione leaned against the cabinet on the cold stone floor, cooling off both physically and mentally, wearing only her towel. She wrung out her hair and brushed it, every sweep another angry thought, before drawing her knees to her chest and laying her head on them. How dare he tell her what to do? Why did he always think he was right? Couldn't he, for once, listen to her?

The door behind her silently opened. She closed her eyes and felt two arms encircle her, lifting her onto the small countertop in the bathroom. Severus placed his palms down on either side of her, pressing the bridge of his nose to the crown her of head.

"Why did you not tell me about this earlier?" he asked, trying to be patient. "You must realize that it wouldn't be safe. Lucius-"

"I know about Lucius. But after everything that's happened, don't we deserve something good? Haven't you ever, even _once_, considered-"

"I refuse to consider it. I would be the worst father imaginable."

"You've loved so few people, Severus, how could you know what capacity you have to love!" He was unyielding, his breath soft and even in her ear. "Then why ask me to marry you at all? Isn't… isn't a family the point?"

"It is for your legal rights, nothing more."

A long silence filled the air, and she began to shiver from the cold. "How can we get married, then, if we don't need the same things?"

"I am certain you would know that it is because we need each other."

"But not in the same way," she whispered. He drew away and silently left the room, beyond frustrated. She dressed for bed, and when she joined him underneath the covers he was laying with his back turned to her, the sheets rising and falling to his deep, even breathing.

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Eileen, who didn't sense anything wrong, stood behind her, helping a melancholy bride into her dress and buttoning up the back. She herself was dressed in midnight blue robes with a matching feathered hat. "I remember my wedding day," Eileen said, as Hermione looked at her reflection in a mirror hanging from Severus's door. Her face was pale, her cheeks pink with blush and lashes thickened with mascara. Her fingers touched the back of her hair which was pulled up, then descended to her mother's pearls at her neck, the little piece of her that she still kept. The dress grew tighter around her back, but she hardly noticed. It was already difficult to breathe, her heart constricted by worry, anxiety, and grief. Eileen had been her best friend ever since they had met, and Hermione couldn't imagine hurting her by postponing the wedding. "I was a little younger than you, but not by much. My family was there, and my parents were, despite everything, happy for me. I wish your parents could see you…. Severus lost both of us around the same time that you lost your parents, but your circumstances were quite different. He didn't have a choice. It astounds me that you would be able to sacrifice your relationship with them to help Harry." She had finished, turning Hermione around, her hands at her shoulders as she looked the bride over. At her kind words, tears rose into Hermione's eyes. Eileen was so kind, so selfless, and even now was pulling a white handkerchief out of her purse. "Oh, please don't cry," she begged.

It only made the tears fall faster. "I'm sorry," Hermione said, taking it and dabbing them away so as not to ruin her makeup. "There wasn't a choice…. I could at least be happy, knowing they were safe. But… thank you," she said, hugging Eileen.

Severus's mother dug through her purse and pulled out a small velvet pouch which she hid in her hand. She sat down at the foot of the bed, motioning for Hermione to join her. "I've always wanted a daughter of my own," she began, pulling the young woman's hand into her lap. "Not that Severus isn't a wonderful son – he is – but it's different," she explained. "And, well, I wanted to give this to you." Eileen showed her the little bag and opened it, pulling out a silver bracelet inlaid with sapphires and diamonds which she hooked around the bride's wrist. "It was my mother's, and I think you should have it."

"Eileen… it's beautiful," Hermione choked, beside herself with emotion.

"A beautiful bracelet for a lovely bride," she said, cupping Hermione's cheek with her hand. "We should leave – the ceremony is set for eleven."

After Eileen Metamorphosed into Irma they arrived at the Ministry with little time to spare, swamped by the large crowd entering and exiting the atrium. Her wedding dress was mostly covered by a black travelling cloak, and it was difficult for her to move without it getting stepped on. They both made their way towards the lifts, past the Fountain of Magical Brethren, front desks, and marble columns. They eventually descended several levels into the basement, and a man with round glasses and straight black hair was waiting for them there.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. He had been standing right outside the lifts, and she hadn't expected at to see him at all.

"I knew you would be here, and I wanted to see you," he explained. Eileen – Irma, rather – looked at him sourly before entering one of the rooms on the right. "Why is she here?" he asked, once Severus's mother had vanished. "Isn't she the librarian?"

"You wouldn't remember, would you?" she teased, although there was an air of nervousness about her. "She's our witness. It's a… long story."

"Well – good luck," he offered. "I have to get back to work anyway, I sort of left without telling anyone." She giggled, thanking him, and hugged him once more. He nodded in her direction, getting onto the lift and disappearing.

Hermione turned towards the door Eileen had gone though and walked up to it, placing her hand on the golden knob. _Even though I'm miserable_, she thought, _it's my wedding. _A pang of fear momentarily struck her senseless. _It's my wedding_.

She entered the room and found it was rather small, paneled with wood and dominated by bookcases and a large desk directly in front of her. In the chair behind it sat a small woman who was wrinkled, toothless, and wore extremely large, thick glasses behind which shone the smallest eyes Hermione had ever seen. The silver nameplate in front of her addressed her as Imogen Shentle, Marriage Officiant. To Hermione's right was Eileen, looking stunning in comparison to Ms. Shentle, her purse nervously clutched between bony fingers. Severus stood in front of the desk on her left, his hair pulled back from his face and tied at the nape of his neck. He wore black trousers, a black cape, a white shirt and vest, and his necktie was of the same color and fabric as her dress. They both seemed to take each other's breath away, for as soon as she walked into the room neither of them was able to move. She eventually shook the feeling and stood beside Severus. Eileen helped her out of her cloak and held it in her arms, coming to stand in front of Ms. Shentle.

The elderly woman had already pulled out a marriage license, scrawling away to fill out the time and date. "Full name of the groom?" she asked. Her voice was rather thin and unpleasant.

"Severus Tobias Snape," he answered quietly.

"Date of birth?"

"January 9, 1960." There were many more questions of the same kind, and soon Hermione was the one being asked, and after her Eileen.

"Relationship to the couple?"

"Coworker of the groom," she explained, hiding a smile behind her hand.

"Your signatures," demanded Ms. Shentle as she turned the parchment towards them. They signed in the same order, Severus using the quill to add his thin lettering before Hermione and Eileen. The officiant took her ancient, chipped wand and tapped the document so that it rolled up. "Take hands and exchange rings," she instructed, seemingly rather bored with the whole affair.

The old woman cast a spell around their hands, golden threads twining through their fingers and up along their forearms. Severus took his bride's left hand in his, pulled the golden band he had given her out of his trouser pocket, and set the ring on her hand. Eileen looked on with tears, handing Hermione a plain golden band she pulled from her purse which the bride placed upon his ring finger. Even after their argument the night before, Hermione could only smile as the light faded and she realized that they were husband and wife. Could she have imagined it, supporting him as they walked through the dungeons the night of the battle? Could she even have imagined it after nursing him back to health, after seeing his childhood memories?

The three of them left together, Hermione donning her cloak as they rode the lifts with several Ministry personnel. Eileen found it difficult to stay in character and stood behind everyone in order to be able to smile in private. They got off at the atrium, several interdepartmental memos above their heads whizzing into the compartment as they left. Hermione was so distracted by all of the thoughts running through her head that Severus had to put out an arm to stop her from running straight into Lucius Malfoy.

She stood her ground as the wizard, magnificent in appearance as always, eyed the trio. "Why, Severus – it has been quite some time since I have had the _delight _to run into you and your… friend," he sneered. "Although hardly just a friend, according to the rampant rumors." Hermione hid her left hand in her cloak, not wanting to let him know true the gossip was.

"Rumors abound concerning your name as well, Lucius, and not quite so innocent," Severus snapped. The flood of people kept coming, and no one noticed the foursome standing in the shadow of the fountain. "Threatening Aurors? Buying back your position at the Ministry and old friends out of Azkaban? I had figured you thought yourself above such child's play."

He only leered maliciously at them. "I have petitioned for the release of many past followers of the Dark Lord from Azkaban. It would be all too easy to find a way to admit one," he threatened. "Don't give me a reason to." The two wizards stared at each other angrily before Severus motioned for them to leave. Lucius, however, noticed Eileen at the back of the group. "And who are you?" he asked, grabbing her arm. In her panic her features shifted slightly, showing a flash of Eileen before returning back to Irma. He released her immediately, unsure what had happened, and turned towards the lifts.

"Let's go," whispered Severus, hurrying through the crowd before they were noticed by anyone else.

"Do you think he realized?" Eileen whimpered in fear. "Do you think he knows?"

Once returning home, Eileen helped her out of her dress and Hermione threw on some old black robes, washing the makeup off her face. No one was in a mood to celebrate. They sat around the fireplace, eating the lunch and cake that his mother had prepared for them in silence. She left not long after they were done, saying that she had a headache and needed to rest.

Things became extremely tense between Severus and her once alone. She busied herself by disemboweling a bucket of bats for work, dividing up the organs and placing them into individual vials. Severus was restless, reading before lying on the couch and then, unable to fall asleep, began organizing his cabinets.

"Why aren't you wearing your ring?" he asked as he set old jars on the table, noticing her bare hand.

"If you would like it to smell like rotting bat flesh in a few days," she said, tersely, the sickening crunch of breaking bones issuing from the dead animal as she broke it down, "I'll put it back on." He didn't say anything more, returning to his work.

Hermione heard a tapping sound at the window and unhooked the latch with the side of her hand, her fingers covered in a bloody mess. In swooped several large owls carrying packages. She washed her hands off in the sink before attending to them, each one holding out a foot and eager to leave although interested in the feast of bat parts on the table. Severus stood beside her and helped untie the knots.

Mrs. Weasley had sent them a box of silver and gold cupcakes she made as well as a cookbook and a letter congratulating them on their marriage. Harry and Ginny also gave them a card with money to use at their favorite restaurant, and Neville and Hannah sent their congratulations along with a large manual concerning experimental Herbology. Ron had even sent a package of Cauldron Cakes, although there was no letter attached to it.

The last owl was particularly tiny, its hooting high pitched as it shook the small letter attached to its leg towards her. It didn't fly away, though, as if it wanted to make sure she read the card. Hermione opened it and recognized Hagrid's tiny scrawl at once.

_Hermione,_

_She fell out of a nest a few days ago, but she's gotten healthier and I've showed her the Owlery so she knows where to stay. I think every wizard or witch should have an owl, and she's ready for a new home._

_ Hagrid_

_ P.S. I've named her Quill, but you can call her what you like._

Hermione handed Severus the note, taking the ball of fluff into her lap and sitting back down at her stool. The bird fluttered around as Hermione inspected her wings and softly tickled her belly. She offered her a bit of bat brain, knowing that the owl would enjoy the high fat content it provided. Quill gobbled it up, hooting lightly before taking off, hovering a bit and then flying into the window. She dropped backwards into the sink filled with water Severus had been using to clean out jars. He cursed loudly as water was flung everywhere by beating wings, and Hermione came to the bedraggled owl's help with a dry cloth, wondering whether the drop had impaired her eyesight. She set Quill by the fireplace so the bird could preen and rearrange her feathers before taking flight and exiting properly.

Hermione ate dinner by herself as she sat on the couch and read the manual Neville had sent them. Severus seemed not to notice, busy as the sound of glass clinking together continued to issue from the kitchen. She took a shower and laid in bed, although unable to fall asleep.

After some time Severus came in and sat on his edge of the bed, his jaw tight as though angry and sad at the same time. "It's our honeymoon," he told her.

"It's hardly a honeymoon," she snorted, her back to him, her eyes welling with tears as she pulled a pillow to her stomach. "You're teaching in the morning. I still have work." He touched her shoulder, and she whimpered, "Please don't," not wanting him to touch her, to pretend like everything was okay.

"Get up," he ordered, fuming. She hesitated, turning to look at him before standing up with the bed in between them. He walked out of the bedroom and into the kitchen to pull out the Pensieve, and she followed. "I am going to show you why I'm not fit to be a father," he declared angrily. "Perhaps then you will understand." He shook a white memory out of its vial before instructing her to enter it alone, for he would not be going with her.

She was in a room that seemed to belong inside Malfoy Manor, a grand chandelier hanging from the ceiling and portraits lining the walls alongside tapestries. In the light of the enormous marble fireplace was a pale older man dressed in black robes, beside him an adolescent dressed in a similar fashion. As she looked closer, she realized it was Voldemort speaking to a sixteen-year-old Severus.

"You have expressed true interest in joining my cause," Voldemort said, circling the young man slowly as though pleased with what he saw. Severus, however, did not look away from the fireplace, an orange glow upon his thin face. "I wished to have a word with you concerning your potential as one of my followers. I feel as though you may understand my point of view above all others, for our pasts are… oddly similar, Severus."

"My Lord…?" he asked.

"My mother was a Pure-blood witch – among the last descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself. She, however, paid little respect to her family's name and became infatuated with a man of status similar to your father's. Both of our mothers were meddlesome, worthless creatures. Do I speak any falsities, Severus?" he asked, watching the youth's lip grow thin.

"Of course not, my Lord," he responded, his throat tight.

"Very good. During the summer between my fifth and sixth year – your age exactly – I discovered extraordinary power which required the sacrifice of my father to achieve. It was… more rewarding, more precious, than imaginable. I have summoned you here tonight to explain that if I am to enlist you, I must know that you would do anything I ask of you. I must know that you are very similar to the person I was at sixteen." Hermione realized that Severus was the same age Tom had made his first Horcrux, and the same age that Draco had been instructed to kill Dumbledore.

They faded away to reveal Tobias Snape sitting on a stool in a Muggle bar with several empty beer glasses in front of him. He was extremely inebriated, hardly able to keep his balance on his seat. Several women in short skirts with long, straight hair giggled at him. He smiled lustfully as he grabbed for them, falling off his chair in the process and causing them to burst into laughter. The bartender yelled for him to leave, and Tobias angrily threw some money from his wallet onto the counter.

He left through the front door, stumbling into the bitter wind flecked with snowflakes. Hermione followed, feeling the chill of the winter night for herself and shivering in her nightgown. Something within the shadows moved and as Tobias turned down the alleyway a tall man grabbed his arm to push him into the brick wall.

She realized it was Severus. He held a silver knife in his right hand, the other pinning his father against the wall. Hermione was surprised that the older man did not struggle. He, instead, looked into his son's eyes and began to laugh, wheezing slightly. "I should'a known," he said, slurring his drunken words. "Your crazy mum poisoned me months ago. I should'a known ya'd come to try'n finish it."

"She's not crazy!" he exclaimed, his eyes full of pain and bitterness. "And now she's in Azkaban – you couldn't imagine what she's going through!"

"Should'a thought of that 'fore she did what she did." He still seemed to find hilarity in the situation as he chuckled. "But if you're gonna kill me, why don' ya kill me with your magic? Or s'it all fake, after all?"

Severus's face hardened as he took the knife and carefully pushed it into his father's stomach. "I want it to hurt," he whispered, holding the hilt in his hand as Tobias crumpled to his knees in shock and pain. "I want you to feel, for a moment, how we have felt." Severus stabbed him in the heart, sliding the blade between his ribs, watching him slump over onto the dirty cobblestones, blood appearing on his lips and pouring onto his hands as he tried to cover his wounds. "I want you to die alone," he said, stepping backwards and staring down at the man he had murdered. "You do not deserve a clean death by magic." And with that, he was gone.

She realized that Eileen had tried to save her son, as Narcissa had, but by sacrificing herself. She had poisoned Tobias unsuccessfully and was caught, thrown into Azkaban because of it. It was obvious that she loved her son, but wouldn't she have warned him about Voldemort? Wouldn't she have told him how dangerous it would be to go looking for the man who wanted nothing more than him and his mother dead? Hermione pulled herself out of the Pensieve, shaking from the cold and her fear and stepping backwards. Severus stood beside her and listened as she said, "It's… it's not your fault, what happened."

His face was white as he explained. "Death is not an easy thing, Hermione. It is the unknown, and that is why the Dark Lord feared it above all. My father's death wasn't an accident. I wasn't forced. I decided to kill him to prove the Dark Lord that I was as cruel as he, and I did. How could I possibly have a family when I am no better than him?"

She bit her bottom lip, blinking away stinging tears. "We all have to live with the consequences of the choices we make, but there's no reason to keep punishing yourself for things that happened so long ago. It doesn't matter to me what you did – only what you are now!" Hermione exclaimed, shaking her head. "It is obvious that you regret what happened, and Voldemort never did. You have loved, and been loved, and that's what makes you different! Don't you want to put everything that is awful behind you and forget the past?"

He turned away, sighed, and then looked into the Pensieve. The lapses between his breathing felt like minutes, and the tensing of his back, his arms, and his jaw felt as though it went on for hours. She knew that he was waging a silent war against himself. The blue and white light poured over his body, illuminating parts of him and casting others into shadow as he thought and thought.

Suddenly, he stood up straight, resolutely. The words he said were cautious but certain. "We would have to move."

"What do you mean?" she asked, stepping towards him.

"If you were to have a child," he said, averting her eyes, "it would require us, eventually, to move out of the castle. You would need to end your career at St Mungo's to stay home, and we would hardly see one another."

"Severus… do you mean…?" she asked, breathless. Hermione placed her hand on his forearm, touching him lovingly for the first time since they were wed.

"It is our life, not only mine." When she said nothing, still in disbelief, he asked, refusing to look at her, "Is this what you want?"

"Yes," Hermione replied, gasping lightly. "If you want it too, then yes!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his middle. As soon as her cheek pressed against his chest she started to sob, her fear from the memory, regret about the day, and anger overwhelming her. "I'm so s-sorry, Severus. I r-ruined our wedding," she wept, the agony of her unhappiness seizing at her stomach.

He comforted her as he pulled her close. "It does not matter," he muttered. "Would you not say that it is in the past, and better forgotten?" She clutched at his back and nodded, the haunting vision of his father dying in the snow one that she would not be able to part with for a while.

Some things were unforgettable.


	20. Another Beginning

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

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Two Winters Later

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"Nigel?"

"Too aristocratic."

"London?"

"Please."

"Thistle?"

"_Thistle? _Is that supposed to be a _name?_"

"How about Emily, then?"

"Fits in wonderfully; Hermione, Severus, and Emily."

"Fine," she said, handing him the book entitled _A Million Names_ his mother had given to her for Christmas. "I want you to come up with a list of twenty names that you find acceptable, ten for each gender, and report back to me once you're through."

Severus ignored her request and placed the book on his bedside table. "We have enough time to not have to worry about that."

"I'm eight months along and we haven't chosen any names!" Her nightdress was pulled up to expose an enormously stretched stomach, and he was patiently applying a cream over the ugly little purple and green marks which had appeared as a result of the baby growing. His hand was cold against her skin, but he seemed to relish the smooth curves it offered. "Time is something we don't have. I could go into labor tomorrow, and what then?"

"The baby hasn't dropped, so you needn't worry" he explained. He always spoke of their child in a very detached way, as though unsure what the proper tone was.

Once he was finished she pulled her dress down to cover her legs, sat up, and took the slice of chocolate cake she had been eating from her bedside table. She rested the plate on the top of her stomach and held it steady as Severus too sat up against his pillows. "I have been feeling a lot of pain, though, in my back," she mumbled as she ate.

"Perhaps you should consider sitting up straight," he quipped, picking up the book of names and leafing through it. She looked at him darkly before adjusting the pillows behind her back and returning to her dessert. "Is that good?" he asked, eyeing the plate.

"Yes – would you like some?" Hermione offered him a fork-full, which he accepted.

"Too sweet," he said, shaking his head. "It would be better if it was dark chocolate."

"Well, I had this craving for sweets all day… I _really _just wanted to eat something sugary and rich," she said emphatically. She laid the empty plate on her table and maneuvered her body to lie underneath the covers. Her hands drifted down to her belly as she rolled onto her side to watch Severus, and she could feel the baby moving around, restless. To think that she and her husband had created life from their own was so special, so beautiful, that her throat tightened at the thought. It was an unearthly feeling, to have so much love and care so deeply for someone she had never met before. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so incredibly complete and happy.

Severus eventually turned out the lights and turned towards her, his hands becoming intertwined with hers. "I love you," he whispered, running his fingers along her back.

"I love you as well," she whispered back, grinning to herself. "Happy Valentine's Day."

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Hermione sat in a wooden rocking chair and swayed back and forth to the clacking of the knitting needles she held in her hands. It was more difficult the Muggle way, but once Eileen had showed her how she quickly became proficient. She knit little booties and hats in yellow and green and now was onto scarves. Perhaps if she had enough time, she would make a matching one for herself. Severus might even want a new green one. He had worn the same scarf to every Quidditch game she could remember, and it was starting to show its age.

Even though it was morning the sky was dark and heavy with snow clouds. Severus was teaching so she was alone, but she enjoyed the time to herself to catch up on reading or other things. It was peaceful to sit in their bedroom, rock in her chair, and listen as the fire crackled and snapped, especially when her back was hurting as it was now. It was soothing to not have a care in the world, no Potions to make or people to harass her.

However, something from earlier had given her cause to worry. Harry had sent her a letter from out of the blue about break-ins among the houses of their immediate group of friends, including Neville's, George's, and Ron's. He had investigated with the Auror department, and it seemed to him as though the aggressors were coming in through the fireplace by Floo Network. It struck him as unusual, because it was common safety to close the Floo when it wasn't in use. It was similar to a Muggle keeping their doors unlocked – it allowed anyone entrance. However, they recently had entered Harry's own home when no one was there, leaving everything strewn across the floor. He was unsure if they had found whatever it was they were looking for, but nothing seemed to be missing. The unfortunate thing was that their Floo _had _been closed. If someone had learned how to cross that barrier, then everyone was in danger. She could only imagine that they were friends of Lucius's willing to do his bidding, and the power he seemed to be achieving frightened her. She just wondered what it was they were looking for.

As Severus wouldn't be back for several hours, and feeling rather lethargic and achy, she eased herself into bed. Sleep came almost immediately, but it seemed only seconds later that her husband was sitting on the edge of the bed and rousing her with his deep voice.

"You must surely be hungry."

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. "What, is it dinner already?"

"It's nearly eight o'clock."

Hermione got out of bed and ate the vegetable and lamb stew which had been sent from the kitchens. Severus summoned her chair so that it was in the living room beside his own, and she rocked while knitting. After an hour had passed she stood up, pressed a hand against her lower back, and walked towards the fireplace. She drew in a short hiss of air as a shot of pain coursed through her back.

He glanced up at her from his book and asked, "Is something the matter?"

"I don't know; I just can't get comfortable."

He looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and closed his book. "I'll be gone for a few hours," he said, standing behind her and resting his hands on her stomach. "Send a Patronus if anything happens."

She agreed and watched the door close behind him. She swept the floor, made the bed, cleaned the bathroom, did a bit of reorganizing, and took a long bath to keep her mind off the pain which didn't go away. Crookshanks, who was now very old and thin, spent most of his days inside their living room asleep by the fireplace. She brushed his graying ginger coat and clipped his nails, receiving a bat to the arm which resulted in three thin scratches.

Hermione didn't even think about falling asleep. She was wide awake, and pains which felt like cramps were now developing. It took a bit of time for her to realize that they were coming at regular intervals, each lasting for the same amount of time, nearly half a minute. She began to get a bit frightened as she wondered whether this really was it.

Severus came back at three in the morning to find his wife curled up in his armchair. "Severus," she said, trembling, "I've been feeling pains all night. They're definitely contractions." Her brief smile was a painful one.

He tried his best not to look anxious as he ordered, "We must go to the Hospital Wing, immediately."

"No, we shouldn't wake Madam Pomfrey. I won't need her for several more hours!"

"Do you not remember her talk with us? She insisted that as soon as you felt anything, you find her." She looked away, and he said, "If you will not get her, I will." He disappeared amongst the flames before she could protest.

Hermione found a bathrobe to wrap herself in, as the only thing she wore was a long nightdress. The old nurse came in through the fireplace dressed in similar attire to Hermione's, a sleeping cap falling off of her head. She ordered her to sit on the couch as Severus walked in, his hands clasped together tightly behind him. He paced in front of the fire and looked from his wife to the clock and back again.

"How far along are you?" asked Madam Pomfrey, checking her pulse.

"I'm not due for another two weeks."

"Hmm. Has your water broken?"

"No, I don't think so."

"You would be certain if it had. How often are the contractions?"

"Not… not often at all. Only about ten minutes apart."

"But they're getting stronger?"

"Yes, I'm sure."

She pursed her lips together and looked Hermione over with her large blue eyes. "I wouldn't expect you to be ready to deliver for a while, dear. You should get back to bed and try to rest. It's essential that you drink a lot of water or tea and stay relaxed – first-time mothers can be in labor for quite a long time, so it would be best not to waste your energy." The nurse nodded at her, and then Severus, making sure that they understood. "As soon as your contractions are lasting about a minute and coming about once every four minutes, you must let me know. Back to bed," she said, helping Hermione up and then leaving so she could do the same.

Severus brought her a glass of water from the sink, watching as she laid down on top of the blankets on her right side. "I feel hot and I _hate_ cramps," she whined, beginning to turn red and cry.

"Would you like a Calming Draught? It would be easy to-"

"No," she sniffled. "It could hurt the baby." She accepted the drink from her husband, who was, for once, at a loss concerning what to do.

Severus offered her food, hot tea, books, and blankets, none of which she wanted. He finally ended up lying beside her and massaging her back, something that eased her pain greatly so that she drifted off to sleep before he did.

She was up again in two hours from stronger pains. Severus was still in his clothes from the day before and stirred when she did. After about half an hour of timing the contractions, Hermione decided that they should go to the hospital wing.

Once arriving, Madam Pomfrey took the couple to a secluded individual room with a bed, several chairs, a table, and an armoire. She quickly checked Hermione's progress. "You're about half-way there, in terms of dilation."

"I don't want to lie down yet," Hermione said, straightening her legs and pulling her nightdress down. She held out a hand to Severus and he helped her out of the high bed.

"Just don't leave the wing," the nurse insisted, opening the door for them.

The couple walked past all of the empty beds and stood at the alcove of an enormous window which overlooked the grounds. A blanket of white snow hugged the earth as snowflakes continued falling, lit by the earliest rays of sun. They stood there, alone together, the pattern of the stained glass falling across them in the form of yellow, red, and blue light. She held onto him as the contractions racked her body and she took in short gasps of air.

"That one was painful," she said, giving off a pant of air akin to a laugh and releasing her arms from around his neck. She could tell that he was worried about the pain she felt. "Well, we'll have a baby soon," she lilted, trying to distract him from his thoughts. She fixed his black necktie which had become loosened and rearranged his disheveled cape. "Do you think we should get your mother?"

"When you're further along, I will get her," he explained, as though he had already thought about it. "If that is what you would like."

She nodded and rested her cheek on his chest. Three more strong contractions came in the span of ten minutes, after which they decided to return to the other side of the ward. Madam Pomfrey wasn't milling around as they thought she would be so they entered the private room together. Hermione got back into bed, propping herself up against the pillows as she shivered and trembled from the cold. Severus placed several thin blankets from within the armoire on top of her.

"Do you remember the very first time you took care of me?" she asked sweetly, her face turned towards him. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering what she was speaking about. "You gave me detention because I skipped class, but I was too sick to even stand. You laid me on your couch and put your cape on top of me to keep me warm. You took care of me."

"It is hardly worth commenting on. I was merely repaying you for what you had done for me." Despite his impassive words, his hand found hers beneath the covers and warmed her cold fingers gently.

She turned away from him, her face twisted as she felt another contraction, and this time it was so strong she couldn't speak through it. When it was over, she said, "I wanted to thank you, for always being there for me." Tears rose to her eyes but she blinked them away, her breathing already strained as it was.

His dark, heavy eyes fixated upon hers. "How could I _not_ have been there for you?"

She smiled before grasping his hand tightly, shaking as she broke into a cold sweat from the pain and biting her lip so as not to cry out. Hermione pushed the blankets off of her, now much too warm to stand them. When it was over she began panting to catch her breath.

Madam Pomfrey appeared at the door and closed it behind her, immediately conjuring a bowl of water and towel for Severus. "Use this," she ordered, pulling the blankets off and determining that Hermione was on her way to begin pushing. "Your pulse is high, dear," she warned. "You will have to calm down or you may strain your babe's heart."

Severus, with his left hand, clumsily wet her forehead with the cloth, not seeming to mind following the orders that the nurse had given him. Hermione labored for another half an hour, crying out from the intensity of the contractions which drained and overwhelmed her. Severus too was exhausted, and if there was anything he hated most in the world it was this feeling of helplessness.

"There we go," cooed Madam Pomfrey, as Hermione felt a gush of fluid between her legs. "Your water finally broke. That will speed things up significantly."

Hermione turned her head towards Severus, and he nodded, leaving the room momentarily before coming back to her side. In less than ten minutes, someone appeared at the doorway.

"Ei-Irma!" Hermione exclaimed, happy but fatigued.

"No, absolutely no visitors!" Madam Pomfrey insisted. "She's nearly ready to deliver!"

Eileen walked past her, unfazed, and placed a cool hand on Hermione's shoulder. "I love this girl as though she were my own," said Eileen, sitting on a chair next to the bed, at the laboring woman's right. "And I refuse to leave."

"Severus, will you permit her to stay?"

He smirked and looked at Hermione, her cheeks red and sweaty. "Yes, I will." He had filled a glass of cold water for his wife to drink between contractions and she handed it to him as she began to shake, taking his mother's hand in hers and squeezing it tightly.

"Fine," Madam Pomfrey said, exasperated. "Now is when you're going to start pushing. I know you're exhausted, but you have to give me everything you can, okay?"

Hermione nodded, her whole body covered in sweat. She was ready to finally help the baby along instead of doing nothing but waiting.

Madam Pomfrey could tell she was about to have another contraction and so counted to three. Hermione pushed for as long as she could and clutched the hands of those beside her for support. She cried out in agony, the pain almost too much for her.

"Now, make sure you're not pushing with your upper body. Tuck your chin against your chest, there you go," praised the nurse.

She bore down again in compliance with the nurse's orders and listened as Eileen encouraged her, pushing when her body demanded it of her and stopping to rest between contractions. Severus remained silent as ever, uncomfortable with the fact that childbirth was a battle he could not help her fight.

Nearly an hour of this passed before Madam Pomfrey commended, "You're doing so well, dear. A few more pushes and you'll have delivered." Soon the baby's head began to crown, which put immensely painful pressure on her. "You must resist the urge to push," she explained, "and allow the head to come through."

"Breathe through your mouth," Eileen instructed quietly. Hermione did, suffering through the next contractions without even the energy to cry out.

The pressure faded slightly as Madam Pomfrey reached for the baby, gently maneuvering it so one shoulder came out, and then another.

"One more push should do it," she said, catching the infant as it fell from the birth canal and placing them on Hermione's chest. She cleared out the baby's throat and nostrils, clamped the umbilical cord, and severed it with her wand. "It's a boy," she said, smiling even though tears filled her eyes. Eileen, too, was sniffling. The nurse began rubbing him, his coloring changing from purple to pink. Eileen and Severus let go of Hermione's hands so that she could sit up and wrap her arms around the baby. The infant began crying, although weakly, the experience having obviously strained him immensely as well.

Madam Pomfrey wrapped him tightly in a thin fleece blanket and handed him to his mother. "Do you have a hat to put on him? I might have one around here somewhere…." It didn't seem as though anyone had the energy to magically produce something as simple as an article of clothing after so many hours of an intense labor.

"A hat. A hat," repeated Severus, speaking for the first time, and now that he had a purpose to fill he quickly left to search for a cap Hermione had knit. Madam Pomfrey was busy cleaning the mother up, asking her to push one last time in order to deliver the placenta, which she did with ease.

Eileen kissed the shocked mother on the cheek. "He's beautiful, dear. You did a wonderful job."

"He's so _l-little_," she whimpered, worried, in pain, and happy beyond words. The only part of the baby visible was his small head, and she ran a finger along his incredibly soft cheek, his forehead, and the wisps of wet, curly black hair on his head. She loved him, immediately, with an emotion which was stronger than she thought possible. "D-do you think he'll b-be all right? I th-thought he'd be much b-bigger."

"You're lucky he wasn't," said Madam Pomfrey. "You would have had an even harder time. He's a bit premature, but he should be fine."

Severus reappeared just as the nurse left, looking slightly frantic and handing his wife a green hat. "Are you all right? Is he all right?" he asked, leaning over the bed.

It was her turn to cry. "We're f-fine," she said, nodding and carefully cradling her son, her beautiful son, in her arms. Severus kissed her twice on the forehead and then once on the cheek as tears rolled from her eyes.

"What did you decide on for a name?" Eileen excitedly asked.

Severus looked to Hermione, who smiled faintly, and then to his mother. "Lucan Alasdair."

"How beautiful," she murmured, unable to stop grinning.

"S-Severus, can you hold h-him?" Hermione's arms were shaking so wildly that she could barely support the baby's weight. He nodded, and after several moments of hesitation he took the infant into his arms with incredible tenderness and care. He sat down, unable to take his eyes from his son. Eileen and Hermione both smiled to each other before the new mother laid her head back against the pillows. "I c-can't k-keep my eyes open," she stammered, shaking from cold chills.

Eileen quickly placed the blankets over her. "Take some time to rest," she insisted. Hermione didn't need anyone telling her twice – she was instantly asleep.

Severus held his son as though in disbelief, his rough, scarred fingers taking the same path his wife's had as he discovered his son's face. Lucan's skin was slightly yellowed, and as he was premature jaundice was a true possibility. A few days of sunlight would take off the sickly tinge. His nose was inwardly sloped, like his mother's, something Severus was more than thankful for. He couldn't tell whose lips he had, but his long face and narrow ears flat against his head was more of a Snape characteristic than Granger.

Once Severus was ready to part with his son, Eileen held him for a while. "He's… he's the best gift you could have ever given me, Severus," she whispered. "A grandchild…. I never thought I would have children, and now I'm a _grandmother_." She let her fingers dotingly sift through his curly black hair. "You have a beautiful baby,"

However, her voice and smell were not as familiar to Lucan as his mother's. He cried, waking Hermione about an hour into her sleep, and she groggily attempted breastfeeding for the first time. She had, of course, done much prior research, but reading was unfortunately not always the best tool for figuring something out. As embarrassing as it was Eileen did the best she could to teach the new mother how to hold the baby and persuade the infant to correctly latch on. After several tries they were successful, Lucan knowing his part without being taught and sucking in earnest despite how tired he was. It was now that she first saw him open his eyes, and she was delighted that they were the same gray as his father's. Now that they were open he didn't seem to want to ever shut them again, staring up at her face and then focusing on the expanse of skin before him.

Severus gave his wife a small vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion and a plate of food from the kitchens around lunchtime. It was around then that visitors came pouring in and Hermione felt a new burst of energy as she proudly showed off her son. Eileen had left to get a bit of rest and eat as well. Professor Sprout brought them a large bouquet of flowers which released colored bubbles and calming perfumes into the air, and Flitwick conjured a stool to stand up alongside the bed and see the baby better. McGonagall even paid a visit, looking the child over and deeming him handsome. Harry and Ginny came with James, now nearing two years of age and dressed in little blue overalls. He toddled around the room, pulling at the blankets and crushing a few of the flowers which were in reach as his parents spoke to Hermione. Severus noticed everything and looked at the child disdainfully.

In the evening Eileen returned with food for all of them. As they ate together quietly, Hagrid appeared to congratulate them. Hermione handed Lucan to the half-giant, trusting him entirely although Severus had difficulty restraining a protest. Eileen had turned pink and stole glances at Hagrid while drinking water from a goblet.

He handed the baby back, his eyes watery from emotion, and began digging inside the pockets of his enormous coat. "I've go' somethin' fer 'im," he explained, and Hermione was slightly frightened what it was – Hagrid's ideas of presents generally missed the mark of what was considered suitable, or safe. She nestled Lucan into the nook of her arm and accepted the little package handed to her. She opened it and pulled out a large, brown pelt. "It's morfal-skin, ter keep 'im warm. Super absorbent, too."

"Thank you so much, Hagrid," she crooned. Severus looked less stern than he had before but Hermione didn't think he would be thanking the groundskeeper as heartily as she was.

Eileen, on the other hand, found it difficult to contain herself and immediately lost the bitter façade of Irma Pince she had maintained all day. "I have _just_ finished a book on the history of morfal hunting and found it to be rather fascinating. Perhaps," she said, pausing to gather her train of thought, "you could borrow it from the library, if you like." They both turned bright red and Hermione busied herself to prevent accidental giggling by checking Lucan to see whether he needed a diaper change.

"Er… sure," he replied, nervously scratching the back of his head with his giant hand. "I've… er… go' ter go," he explained. "Fang… er… go' ter feed 'im an' all." He backed out of the room, waving goodbye to all three of them and voicing his congratulations again before closing the door carefully.

Eileen looked unapologetically at Severus, who was rather peeved. "Of all the people in the world to have _feelings_ for and you choose Rubeus Hagrid?" he complained.

"Feelings of friendship," she retorted, all flustered. "We were quite close, sixty years ago. I plan on spending my time with whomever I like."

Madam Pomfrey entered, a small bassinet rolling in behind her. She took Lucan into her arms and checked him over by laying him in his bed and unwrapping the blankets from around him. He bawled at the top of his lungs from the discomfort of exposure to the cold. Hermione, always eager to learn, was quickly taught how to change his diaper. Once proficient, the nurse handed her a one-piece Severus had brought from their chambers earlier on in the day and let the new mother dress her son. Eileen left soon after, but not after hugging Hermione one more time.

Severus was always attentive to everything that was happening, for it was as much a learning experience for Hermione as it was for him. He still seemed to be in shock at the prospect of having to care for a baby, and he didn't like that it was all so unknown to him. Hermione was falling into her role as a mother so naturally, whereas he could only sit and watch while trying to anticipate their needs.

Hermione gave Lucan, who was yawning and blinking his little eyes sleepily, to Madam Pomfrey, and watched as she set him in the bassinet to sleep. The mother was mesmerized by his little chest, which moved up and down as he breathed.

"You'll be up every few hours to feed him," warned Madam Pomfrey. "You must get some rest. Severus, you've been here all day so I would advise you do the same. They'll be here in the morning when you wake up." She left, leaving the door open for him.

"You should write Horace to see if he can take your classes for the week," Hermione suggested, touching his forearm as he leaned over the bed.

"Of course." He helped her readjust her pillows so that she laid horizontally, and she groaned a little in pain as she moved. It was obvious to her that he didn't want to leave, but he had been there all day without nearly any sleep the night before. He held her hand for a few moments before kissing her forehead and leaving. She knew that although he didn't say it, he was incredibly proud of her.

The frightening reality of being a mother was just beginning to sink in now that she was alone. He could hear Lucan's tiny breaths of air and movements, for his bassinet was pulled up right next to her bed. She was now responsible for this little life, and the worries caused her heart to race. What if she forgot to feed him? What if the blanket pulled over him to keep him warm was too heavy? What if he got a chill in the night and became sick? All she wanted to do was pull him into her arms, because that was where she felt he was safest. But he was fast asleep, and she knew she would have to overcome her fears sooner or later.


	21. Superstition

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

"You are so good with him," Severus said fondly, watching as his wife placed Lucan to her breast and sat down beside him on the couch.

"He's such a good baby," she replied, looking down at the sixth-month-old in her arms. "Ginny always said that James was a nightmare, colicky and awake at all hours of the night. Lucan is fond of biting, though, especially now that his teeth are coming in." Severus wrapped his arms around hers, looking over her shoulder at their son.

Lucan's eyes were closed, his left hand open flat against his mother's chest. Hermione played with his loosely curled hair and his little ears, which she loved extraordinarily, calming him as he drank his fill. She handed him to Severus to burp, a job he had mixed feelings for.

Once he was finished she sat on the floor and supported Lucan upright with his back against her stomach. There was a blanket beneath them covered in toys, and Hermione took a rattle and shook it, enticing him to play. He grabbed for it and shook it himself, looking up at his father with a huge grin on his face.

"Do you like that toy, Luke?" he asked quietly, picking up the newest issue of _The Practical Potioneer_ and leafing through it while still watching his wife and child. The baby gurgled and cooed his reply, quickly bringing the toy to his mouth to chew on. Hermione set him onto his back in front of her so that they were face to face.

"Maybe we should give him a bath," she suggested. "Would you like a bath, Lukie?" she asked emphatically, lying on her stomach to bury her nose in his chest and kiss him. He began to giggle, and soon his whole body was consumed in laughter. His hands pulled at her ponytail of bushy hair which swept over his face and tickled him. "You'll smell nice for your evening alone with Daddy." She rolled over onto her back and looked up at the ceiling, and then tilted her head backwards to look at Severus. "It's a shame Daddy won't let me take you to Uncle Harry's birthday party tonight. Everyone would love to see you, I'm sure, especially Aunt Ginny."

Severus impatiently put down what he was reading, resting it on his knee. "I will _not_ let you take him somewhere so unsafe. And I would prefer you stop referring to them as 'Uncle' and 'Aunt.' We are not, in _any_ way,related to the Potters."

"Harry is the head of the Auror Department – I think we'd be safer there than anywhere else," she argued quietly.

"Molly and Arthur's house has been broken into twice, and I am not willing to take any chances. If you were reasonable, you wouldn't be going either."

She frowned and sat up before scooping Lucan into her arms and plopping him into his father's lap. "I have to get ready. Give him a bath for me, will you?"

Severus scowled at her but obliged, getting up and lying Lucan on the countertop next to the sink as he turned on the water and made it the right temperature. He had watched Hermione bathe their son many times, but he had never actually undertaken the procedure by himself. The sink was not very deep, but wide, and after undressing the baby he laid him in the water. He took a washcloth, added a mild soap he had made himself, and rubbed Lucan softly, smirking as he did so, and was careful not to get it in his eyes. Lucan wanted to roll over, the newest thing he had learned to do, and consequentially water flooded into his mouth, causing him to cough.

Severus righted him and held his son's chubby arm tightly in his hand so that he wouldn't flip again. He suddenly felt Hermione's hand on his shoulder. "I hope you aren't letting my baby drown." She stood beside him and looked into the sink. "How are you, sweetie?" she asked Lucan, who cooed, flailing his arms and kicking the water. "I saw you smiling, and it's such a rarity that I felt compelled to come over and ask what had caused it," she told Severus, giggling.

To her surprise, he did not inhibit it. "I never thought I would be bathing my son in my kitchen sink." Hermione silently watched him rinse the baby clean and summon a towel, a diaper, and a fresh outfit from the other room. The front of his jacket was now thoroughly wet as he lifted Lucan out and wrapped him in the white towel to dry him off.

"If your students could see you now," she said, smiling.

He glared at her before placing a diaper on Lucan and then managing to fit him into a white one-piece as the baby turned his head and began crying, not liking to be changed. "You look nice in those," he offered, taking Lucan into his arms again and noticing the elegant light grey robes she wore. She had also let her hair out but smoothed it, so it fell past her shoulders.

"I just bought them. They are very… forgiving to my figure." As though he wouldn't understand what she meant, she pressed down the fabric to show her raised stomach.

"There is very little that requires forgiving."

She smiled and stepped towards them. "Now, make sure that he goes to bed in an hour, but keep him occupied. You know how much he loves to play with you. If he gets hungry, there are jars of food in the cabinet-"

"Hermione, I am quite capable of taking care of our son."

She blushed and he led her to the fireplace, letting her kiss him and then swamp Lucan with affection. "I'll be home in a few hours," she promised, stepping through the fire and disappearing. Severus sat down with Lucan and a chewing ring in his lap and read aloud from his paper, which the infant grabbed at and tore. He sighed, standing up and laying down on the couch. He placed Lucan on his chest and rubbed his back, wondering what he was supposed to do now. It didn't take long, however, for both of them to fall asleep that way.

Hermione was quickly embraced by a large number of people. All of the Weasleys and Potters were there to celebrate Harry's twenty-fifth birthday.

"Good to see you, Hermione," Ginny said, hugging her friend and then allowing her to embrace Harry.

"Happy birthday," she giggled, wrapping her arms around him. "How-"

Suddenly, from somewhere down around her knees, she heard wailing. James was yanking at his father's robes, obviously vying for attention now that it wasn't focused on him. Harry picked him up, and he quieted down immediately. "Sorry," he said, patting his son on the back as the toddler sucked his thumb. There was loud chatter and laughing from around the room, and she was able to pick up on conversations as she held her own with Harry and Ginny.

"Babies in the house again, Arthur!" exclaimed Mrs. Weasley, beside herself with happiness as she clutched her husband and looked from James to Molly, Percy and his wife Audrey's daughter. Fred, George and Angelina's son who was only about five, obviously didn't want to play dolls with Victoire, who was now seven, but she was so bossy and demanding that he didn't really have a choice. Dominique, the newest addition to Bill and Fleur's family, was a newborn and wrapped up in her mother's arms. Even Teddy Lupin was there, shyly standing with his grandmother Andromeda. Although he was a little older than Victoire, he stood with his side to her, uneasily, hoping she wouldn't order him to play.

"I guess we should start serving the cake," Ginny explained, moving towards the kitchen after spending some time catching up. "Mum's been going crazy planning everything, even though it's only dessert."

"Let's try and get things done while she's preoccupied with the children," Hermione suggested, earning a laugh from her friend. "Otherwise she won't let us do anything."

It was dark, the moon waning into a small sliver. Glowing lanterns floated above them to light their way as they quickly opened the back door and set the plates, glasses, and silverware onto the table in the garden which was, as always, reserved for large gatherings. The family had grown so much that they just wouldn't fit in the undersized kitchen anymore.

Mrs. Weasley did eventually find them as she sent everyone out into the backyard. There was never a moment of silence as they sat down at the table, sang, sliced the chocolate cake, and talked about work and their families. George and Ron spoke excitedly about two new branches of Weasley Wizard Wheezes which were in the process of starting up. Percy went off on a rather longwinded, dry explanation of his work and George, extremely bored, entertained his son by making two forks tango across his plate.

Ginny, in her own conversation with Hermione and Harry, explained ecstatically, "I hope I'll be able to make the team again – they're holding the World Cup next summer, so doing well this season is going to be key."

"It's hard enough getting you off the broom now," Harry said. "I don't want to think about-"

"Oh, shut it," she retorted, readjusting a sleepy James in her arms as he began nodding off.

Hermione smiled to herself and looked down at her plate, scraping the silver spoon against the bottom to gather all the icing she could. She shrieked loudly, sitting up straight in her chair as a ball of feathers fell into her lap from out of nowhere, and exclaimed, "Quill!" Her owl was now full-grown but still uncoordinated, and at Hermione's expense - the entire table was laughing good-naturedly at her reaction. She blushed, but turned white as she broke the parchment's seal and read. Quickly scrawled on the tiny piece of parchment was her greatest fear.

_Come home immediately_.

"I have to go," she said, standing up and quickly pushing her chair in. "May I use your Floo?" she asked, already at the back door to the Burrow.

"Of course, dear, but-" began Mrs. Weasley, only to watch Hermione disappear from view.

She threw some powder into the hearth and found herself in their chambers. "What's wrong? Is it the baby?" she asked immediately as she entered the living room. Severus was sitting on the couch, one arm cradled in the other, but Lucan was nowhere in sight.

"He's asleep," explained Severus, holding cloths soaked in blood to his forearm.

"What did you do? How did you hurt yourself?" she asked, kneeling on the ground in front of him and, when he didn't answer, removed the white cloth to expose the wound. She gasped and tears immediately rose to her eyes. It was his Dark Mark, bleeding as though freshly cut. "What… what does this mean?" she asked, but she didn't wait for an answer. She knelt in his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. She could feel the warm blood soaking through her robes into her back as he held her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, choking on her tears. She pressed her torso to his, as though she wished to shield him, to protect him, but felt helpless. "But he's gone, he can't be back. Can he?"

"No, but it will be Lucius, I can assure you, in the tradition of the Dark Lord."

"What do you mean, in the tradition of the Dark Lord?" She had sidled off of him, knelt by his feet, and noticed several bottles of Blood-Replenishing Potion, some empty, some full, sitting on the side table.

"If you summon a sheet of parchment, I will show you." She did immediately, finding a quill, ink, and conjuring a goblet of water, which she urged him to drink from, as well as a table to write on.

"Is there… is there any way of healing it?" Hermione asked. She still shook, her mind racing and heart beating wildly.

"No - it will have to bleed out." He readjusted the bandage and began, "This will require you to think back to your earliest History of Magic classes." Hermione nodded, leaning over the paper with him as he proceeded to draw a large circle, slipping back into their old roles of student and professor. He withdrew, sitting back, and they both watched as the diagram completed itself, the ink slowly spreading and curling across the parchment. "Do you know what this is?" he asked.

"It's the Wheel of the Year," she explained. "Its origins lie within the Celtic religion, which celebrates two equinoxes, two solstices, and four other dates which lay approximately half-way between the other four. There are eight important dates in total, known as 'Sabbats' by modern Pagan historians." She watched as a line was drawn across the diameter of the circle, one half of the circle darkening as the other remained light, and names as well as dates labeled the outside.

"Very good," he said, drinking water after taking another vial of Blood-Replenishing Potion. "The Dark Lord was obsessed with purity, above all, and believed in the oldest wizarding traditions. He was heavily influenced by the Celts for his use of human sacrifice - trading death for life."

"He traded the death of others for his own life, for it was required in the creation of a Horcrux?" she asked, bending over the diagram.

"Yes. A Horcrux is a rather direct way of taking someone's life to sustain another's, although, not the only way."

"There are other ways?" she asked, turning to face him.

He paused, before asking, "What is war but the death of many for the preservation of an idea, a country, a person?" Severus remained quiet, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. "The Dark Lord also used days important for ancient magic to plan his most important endeavors. As you know, the year is divided into two halves. One is light," he said, motioning towards the lower part of the circle, the time from May to November, "and one is dark. He believed he needed to conquer the light, and he would win."

"And… and how would he have done that?" she asked.

Severus leaned forward over the table, his left arm again cradled in his right. "There is a distinct pattern to all of his strongest attacks, for they fall close to these dates. For example, the first of May is Beltane, an exceedingly important pagan holiday marking the beginning of the light half of the year."

"The Battle of Hogwarts was May 2."

"Yes. The next range of dates surrounds Midsummer-"

"-which is the time of year when the day is longest."

He looked at her from under his untidy fringe of black hair before again eyeing the piece of parchment. "The Dark Lord regained his body a few days after the longest day of the year, June 24. A year later, he planned to lure Potter into the Department of Mysteries to obtain the prophecy using these dates. The next is August 1. Rufus Scrimgeour was murdered and the ministry fell to the Dark Lord's power, and six years earlier he had ordered Quirrell to steal the Philosopher's Stone from Gringotts. I am certain the reason the Dark Lord targeted Potter rather than Longbottom, who was born but a day earlier, was because of his suspicion that Potter would be the greater enemy as he was born before a day of great power." Hermione whitened, unable to comprehend how Voldemort could have believed so greatly in such superstition. "Finally, the beginning of the dark half of the year and the most well-known Pagan holiday - All Hallows' Eve."

Hermione brushed her hair back, stared into the fireplace, and said, "Quirrell released the troll in my first year, hoping for a diversion to get the stone. And then… we missed the feast the next year to attend Nick's Deathday Party, and that was when the Chamber of Secrets was reopened." It all seemed to fall into place, and she couldn't believe she hadn't noticed it before.

"It was also the night that the Dark Lord had murdered the Potters and originally lost his body."

They both stared at the parchment, as though unwilling to speak the obvious. "But," gulped Hermione, looking down at the little lettering around the perfectly drawn circle, "there were never any attacks during the autumn equinox. Do you think Lucius is… planning something?"

"I believe Lucius is going to complete what the Dark Lord left unfinished," he explained, still refusing to look at her, as though meeting her eyes would acknowledge the truth behind it.

"But why… why now?"

"It has been seven years since the fall of the Dark Lord. Seven," he repeated.

"But Lucius hardly supported Voldemort after his fall. Why is he bringing his followers back together, inflicting the Dark Mark again?"

"He nothing short of despised and feared the Dark Lord, but he was always envious of the power he wielded."

Her voice quavered as she drew close to him, took his bloodied arm in her hands, and asked, "What does it mean?"

"I'm unsure," he said, holding her gaze in such a way that she was almost convinced of his words.

"You're lying to me," she accused, her eyes dripping with tears and her arms shaking. "You… you need to tell me."

"It means," he said quietly, "that everyone we hold dear is in extreme danger."

.

.

.

Harry and Hermione sat across from each other in his living room, a strong rain beating against the windows. He ran his hand through his black hair before asking, "Do you think Voldemort would have really been that superstitious?"

"It seems as though he was," she replied, staring down at the coffee table between them. "He did believe in the Chamber of Secrets, and the legend of the four founders. He also believed in the legend of the Deathly Hallows. There is no reason he would not have believed in Sabbats, in days of power." After several moments of silence, she said quietly, "I don't know whether it would be wise to alert the Ministry.."

Harry looked at her through his spectacles as though unsure he had heard her correctly. "Hermione, Lucius has been readying himself for a fight for a long time. Our house was broken into last month, for the third time, despite all the security I had set up…. My office was especially torn up, but nothing seems to be missing. I can't even come up with a motive as to why they would be breaking in…. They've never taken anything from any of the houses, or attacked anyone. We couldn't have all been so lucky…."

"Perhaps it's not you they want," she gulped, her fingers stretching the hem of her robes in anxiety.

"Why wouldn't they be after my family? I was the one who finished off Voldemort."

"There is a… complicated history behind it," she explained, thinking of Eileen's connection to the Malfoys. "Whenever Severus and I have run into Lucius, he always has had murder in his eyes. Also… the nineteenth of September - two days before one of the Sabbats, the autumn equinox - is my birthday. Perhaps… perhaps they know, and will think it was meant to be… that it's more than a coincidence." As she entertained that sickening thought, she added, "But at least we have time to prepare…. We know when they will attack, and… we've fought them before."

"That doesn't make it any easier," Harry said. He was right, though - there was much more to lose this time. "However, I have something that may help you…." He flicked his wand and waited, but after some time looked in the direction of his office and frowned. He tried again, but with the same results. Harry immediately whitened, standing up and walking out of the room. Hermione sat on the edge of her seat, listening as drawers opened and closed. Harry returned, looking very ill.

"What's-"

"The map's gone. I can't find the Marauder's Map," he said quickly.

"I guess we know what they took, then," Hermione said, sitting very still and feeling powerless, not looking extraordinarily frightened but rather as if she had expected it. "But what do we do now?"

"Alert the members of the Order, think of a plan. I think it is clear that they have been practicing their ability to open a closed Floo, and that they have chosen their battleground."

"Hogwarts?" she asked, but she didn't need his assurance. "At least… at least we know what to expect," Hermione offered, avoiding his eye. "Hopefully, we will know what to expect."


	22. Risks

The world of Harry Potter belongs to JKR

* * *

"Thank you so much," Hermione said, holding the large, buzzing crate awkwardly in her arms. "George has been dying to get his hands on Billywigs for a while; he's trying to make something new for the shop."

"Don' say nothin' 'bout it," Hagrid cheerfully replied, standing in the pumpkin patch and tending to the vines, cutting off dead leaves and adding fertilizer. He wiped the sweat off his brow, leaving behind a streak of dirt across his large forehead. "It's yer birthday, isn' it?"

"Yes, it is," she replied half-heartedly. It was the day she had been dreading and planning for since the Dark Mark had reappeared upon Severus's arm. She was sure the attack would happen tonight.

"Well 'appy birthday. Nice weather fer one…."

"Well thank you," she replied, smiling, shifting her weight from one leg to the other.

"How's yer owl doin'?" he asked, leaning onto a post which sank down into the earth as it struggled to support the half-giant's weight.

"Oh, Quill's… doing great." Hermione's owl that Hagrid had given her for a wedding present didn't exactly supply her with a thrilling tale that would lead to a lengthy conversation. "She's been pretty happy up at the Owlery."

"And how's yer little one?"

"Oh, he's napping now, the only way I was able to come down. You should see him, he's beginning to crawl and he won't ever keep quiet, now that he's discovered he can make noises. And his hair's growing longer, it's curling a bit at the ends," she said, fondly smiling to herself.

Hagrid's little black eyes sparkled as she spoke, the only way she was able to tell he was smiling beneath the tangled mass of his beard. "Yeh should bring 'im by sometime, Fang would love ter see 'im."

"Of course," she replied. She looked at the ground, before saying, "I'd better get going…." She walked out of the garden and up the hill to the castle, still clutching onto the large crate he had given her. "And thank you again!"

"Anythin' fer a Weasley," he responded good-naturedly, straightening himself before returning to his work and yanking several large weeds out of the ground.

Within a short period of time, she had sent the crate through the Floo to George, played with Lucan after he woke up, and assisted Severus in packing their closet into a rather large cardboard box. They were planning on moving into a house of their own, as Severus's living quarters had been suitable for two but did not have the space required for a growing baby. It was bittersweet, for the idea of having a house thrilled her, but she wondered if it could be as special to her as the chambers she had shared with Severus from the beginning of their relationship.

Several hours later they sat at their dinner table, celebrating Hermione's birthday at home. Lucan was in his high chair, picking up crackers and eating them himself, his large grey eyes focused on his mother. Hermione brushed his hair to the side, lovingly, before picking up her fork and eating her meal of salmon, asparagus, and mashed potatoes. She even placed a forkful of the fish upon Lucan's tray, watching as he took a small handful and pushed it into his mouth before pushing it back out with his tongue, unsure of the flavor and texture.

There was a feeling gnawing at her from the inside, as she wondered what tonight would bring. How could she possibly sit and play with her infant as though nothing was wrong when, in a matter of hours, she could be dead? Severus knew nothing of her plans - his ignorance was of utmost importance. If he knew what she was about to do, he would not hesitate to forbid her, and nothing between him and Lucius would be reconciled.

But despite his ignorance of tonight's expected events, he seemed troubled, rolling his wand between his fingertips as they all sat on the couch, Lucan nursing and cradled in his mother's arms. Hermione eventually placed him on the ground and changed his diaper. Lucan pulled his feet up and put his foot in his mouth, cooing continuously as his parents watched. He rolled over from his back onto his stomach, and pushed himself up with his arms. However, Lucan hadn't fully learned how to coordinate his legs and instead flexed his arms so he raised and lowered his upper body. He squealed and babbled at his parents, and when he began whining Hermione pulled him up into her arms, hushing him.

She played with his chubby little hands, feeling their warmth and softness, and caressed his little feet and legs, his chest, and then his fat cheeks. Her favorite part of him, though, was his little soft ears. Hermione held him by his arms so that he stood on her lap and faced his father, and Severus leaned forward, pressing his large nose against his son's forehead as Hermione pressed her nose and then lips against Lucan's ear. Lucan squealed again, pulling at his father's long hair before letting go and reaching out as if wanting to be held.

Hermione recollected how awkward of a father Severus had initially been, not truly understanding how to meet the needs of a baby, how to lower his guard and become flexible instead of stingy, how to allow spit up to get on his clothes without becoming angry, how to wake up in the middle of the night to change a diaper without being excessively grumpy in the morning. For how brilliant he was, he had known nothing about parenting.

Now, however, there was fluidity to his movements as he accepted Lucan and sat him in his lap, playing with his son's hair, readjusting him in his light green onesie, and handing him a toy rattle which had been sitting on the end table. Hermione drew up her legs and faced them, leaning her head against the back of the couch. Lucan was slouched against Severus's thigh and the couch's arm, chewing and drooling on the cloth rattle. Hermione figured he must have been in a bit of pain, for he was now teething. His large grey eyes searched both his mother's and father's faces and finally closed, as though he was content. Severus's mouth formed the faintest of smiles. Hermione reached down and traced the scars and veins outlined on her husband's weathered hands, her mind full of thoughts.

Hermione and Severus eventually stared into the fire, the silence between them interrupted only by Lucan's fussing as the time grew later and he became tired. Severus sipped his wine and Hermione read a book, stealing glances at the clock on the mantel from time to time, careful to shield her agitation and anxiety from Severus.

Suddenly, she announced, "I'm going to visit your mother tonight."

"At this hour?" he quickly retaliated. "Hermione-"

"It's my _birthday_; I should be allowed to go see her. You know how I like to spend some of my day with her anyway. It'll only be for a little while, just to say goodnight."

He looked at her sternly, and her heart was in her throat. Everything hinged on his cooperation. "I suppose," he relented, "but you are absolutely _not _taking Lucan with you."

"Why are you worried? You said yourself that the Hogwarts Floo is impenetrable! It's only for half an hour at the most…." She stood up, kissed her husband's cheek, and took Lucan from his lap, trying her best to keep her voice from quavering. "Go take a shower, and by the time you're out I'll be home. I promise."

They locked eyes for a moment, but she intentionally thought of Eileen, feigning plans in her thoughts so that he wouldn't be suspicious. She could feel his mind pressing upon hers, the feeling that meant he was attempting to read her thoughts, to discover her true purpose. "If you must," he conceded, standing up beside her. "But don't dawdle." He pressed his nose to hers, and then his lips to hers, kissing her gently. Severus kissed his son's forehead, and then his wife's, before looking into her eyes again. She knew it was his way of expressing worry.

Her hands shook slightly as she tossed a bit of Floo Powder into the fireplace, stepped through, turned to face her husband, and flew through the network of thousands of hearths until she reached her destination.

However, it was not Eileen's chambers but the Burrow that Hermione had intended to reach. Mrs. Weasley was standing in front of the fireplace, nervously waiting for her visitor, as Harry sat on the couch with Ginny and Mr. Weasley. Everyone in the room was tense and silent, but stood up to greet her as she stepped into the living room.

"Good evening," Hermione said morosely.

Harry embraced her as warmly as he could, murmuring, "Happy birthday," in her ear. He was followed by Ginny, who complimented Hermione on her dark blue robes and her handsome son.

Mr. Weasley stood beside her and asked, "Do you have everything you need, Hermione?"

"I believe so." She longingly gazed around at the old sofa and mismatched chairs of the comfy, closed atmosphere of the Burrow. She peered at the pictures of the children upon the walls and could smell cider wafting in from the kitchen. She remembered all the times she had stayed there as a teenager and wondered how she could have taken those weeks spent with her friends for granted, not realizing that it wouldn't be too long until they lived separate lives. Her world was not the same as it had been ten years ago.

Harry was dressed in casual clothes, and she was glad to see him slightly more relaxed. However, he became grim, and said, "We have intelligence from a reliable source inside Lucius's department in the Ministry stating that he has plans of an attack tonight."

"I understand what you're doing Hermione," Mrs. Weasley interjected, "but why does it have to be you? Why not an Auror, or-"

"Lucius would never attack an Auror outright, so they would have to arrest him first, seemingly without any prior cause," Hermione explained. "It would be considered a highly unjust and unprompted move by the Ministry. Who knows what Lucius could make of it…. If anything, it could improve his credibility concerning his past declarations that his imprisonment in Azkaban was unjustified."

"And how do you know they will attack you, and not Severus?" she asked, her tone dismissive. "What if they forgo the plan that you have thought up for them and go for the sensible one, without involving anyone else?"

"You know how they work," Hermione replied, her voice lowered. "They target the ones you love, the ones we love. Despite how many people they hurt or kill in the process, they will always end up finding the ones their intended victim holds dearest. Isn't it… easier, that no one else is going to be endangered?"

"Not when you're the one who's going to be hurt!" she retorted loudly. Hermione realized how frightened she was, for there were tears in her eyes.

Mr. Weasley placed his hand on his wife's back, while Ginny said, meekly, "She can do it, Mum. She's… she's _Hermione_," she emphasized.

"We have a plan," Harry explained to his mother-in-law. He paused, running his hand through his black hair before looking to Hermione and asking, "Are you certain I can't come with you?"

"You know - you know I would want you to, but it wouldn't work if you did," she sighed. "Invisibility Cloak or not, they have the Marauder's Map, and they will know if you are there. It must be Eileen and I, alone." Hermione shifted her sleeping son in her arms. Mrs. Weasley was still visibly uncertain, and so Hermione looked at the bundle she held and explained, "I must do this, if only for him. The world is not safe for him, or anyone else connected to Severus." She paused, before adding, "I must hurry, I only have so much time…." Hermione kissed Lucan's forehead – he was asleep – and handed him to Mrs. Weasley, who accepted the bundle gently. "Everything you'll need for tonight is in here," Hermione said, pulling out her charmed bag from deep within the folds of her dress and placing it in Ginny's hands. "Please, take care of my baby," she said, her eyes filled with tears. She ran the back of her hand across his cheek, her heart feeling as though it had been wrenched from her chest.

"I will. Good luck," Ginny whispered.

"You'll be fine, Hermione," Harry said, although not so confidently. "Don't think otherwise. We'll be here, waiting." Mr. Weasley reached over and squeezed her shoulder before they all stepped away, clearing the path between her and the fireplace. She wiped her eyes again, devastated, before turning and walking into the Floo.

This time, it was Eileen's living room she entered, her arms feeling strangely light without the weight of her child upon them. Eileen had been waiting for her and embraced her as soon as she entered. Kipling, Eileen's calico cat, had wound himself between Hermione's legs and meowed his greeting.

"Hermione, are you all right?" she asked, noticing her tears and not quite understanding why she was upset. They had never planned to leave Lucan with the Weasleys, but Hermione decided it was a necessary precaution. What if things did not go according to plan?

Hermione nodded, and diverted the subject by saying, "We haven't got much time." They both sat down upon the couch, Kipling immediately settling in Hermione's lap. His loud purring calmed her slightly. Eileen was solemn, her eyes fixed upon the clock above the fireplace. It hadn't been more than ten minutes since Hermione had left Severus, and she was sure he wouldn't be suspicious just yet.

Eileen asked, "How much time do you think…?" It was nearly 11 o'clock.

"Anytime now. I don't believe they will be hesitant, once they-" The fire crackled, catching her off guard, before subsiding. "Once they know we're alone," she finished, quietly. After several moments of silence, besides that of the hissing fire, she asked, "Should we go over the plan once more?" Eileen nodded, and so she explained, "When they come through the fireplace - whoever they are, and however many - we'll stun them immediately, bind them, and send an owl to the Ministry and a message to Harry through the Floo." Quill, Hermione's owl, sat upon the arm of Eileen's chair beside the window, staring at them as though she was poised for action. "And then we wait. I took a vial of Veritaserum from Severus's stores." She tapped the side of the brown belt across her waist, as to explain that it was hidden there. "Once they confess their intentions, Malfoy and the rest of the Death Eaters will be back in Azkaban. We'll finally be alone." She thought of what this entailed. For her, it meant her child could grow up without the fear of being punished for something his father did. It meant that Severus would be able to let go of the past, to cut ties with the fact that he had once been a Death Eater, and move on. It meant that Hermione would be able to find her parents and bring them home, knowing they would not be victims of a conflict in which they had no part.

"I should probably get my wand, then," Eileen chuckled dryly, standing up and brushing the wrinkles from her dress. She stepped towards the mantel, whereupon her wand sat inside its display case, and reached for it.

A dark-haired figure burst through the fireplace and caught Eileen around the middle, tackling her towards the ground, their fall interrupted by the low wooden table which broke with a crunch. Kipling let out a loud yowl, dashing over Hermione's shoulder and running across the room to hide. Hermione had jumped to her feet, her wand pointed towards both of them, but as the man was thin and both were struggling against the other she didn't want to chance hitting Eileen with the spell intended for him. Quill, frightened by the noise, flew into the adjacent room to hide. Severus's mother was visibly terrified, trying to pummel the man's chest and kick him at the same time, although her movements were restricted by her clothing. He was trying to pin her down as her arms flailed, and at the same time reach into his pocket for his wand. He briefly looked over his shoulder as though expecting someone else to be coming through the fireplace.

Hermione aimed and yelled, "_Stupefy_!" His movements stopped and Eileen pushed him away. He rolled over onto his back, and Hermione realized who he was - Macnair, the man who had been Buckbeak's executioner. "Are you all right?" Hermione asked quickly, kneeling down in front of her.

Eileen nodded, gasping, and accepted Hermione's hand as she was pulled into a sitting position. "What a complete fool," Eileen spat, "he didn't even have his wand ready…."

Too quickly for her to react, a spell came through the fireplace and hit Hermione straight in the back. Her eyes closed and she collapsed in a heap at Eileen's feet, her wand falling from her hands and rolling into the remains of the table that had broken. Four figures dressed in hooded black robes came through the fireplace and stood in a semicircle around her. Eileen scrambled backwards until she was sitting against the blue couch, holding her hands in front of her face, cowering as though to deflect a curse. It did not come.

Instead, the tallest man, who was directly between her and the fireplace, stowed his wand in his cane and lowered his hood to reveal a length of silky blond hair. "It seems as though he was not the only fool here tonight, Eileen Prince." Her eyes grew large, and he looked from her to her wand upon the mantelpiece, and then back, smirking. "Stun her," he instructed the rather large, ugly man beside him. Macnair and Hermione, both immobile, were levitated and sent through the fireplace.

Eileen had tears in her eyes as the man cast the spell from his wand, hitting her square in the face. This had gone terribly, terribly wrong.

.

.

.

Severus was sitting on the couch, sipping his cup of tea as he waited for his wife to return. It had been nearly an hour since she'd left, and he was becoming slightly cross with her prolonged absence. It was strangely quiet without his family, for if Lucan wasn't crying, fussing, or babbling, Hermione was doing dishes, making potions, organizing bottles, sweeping, knitting, packing, or chatting with Severus. Even if they sat together reading, there was generally some background noise. Hermione never rested. And now, it was silent.

Severus reflected upon the fact that as he was now a husband and a father, he often felt emotions that had been foreign to him as a bachelor. He was more protective and worried on a regular basis than he had ever been before. There was also a level of dedication for his wife that he had never felt for anyone else, for their allegiance was not forced out of fear or as a deal, but instead created out of mutual trust and love.

He suddenly could no longer bear what a fool he had been to let her take Lucan and go to his mothers without him on a date within range of the fall equinox. He was sure that Lucius would strike now, and he had told her that. Why hadn't she listened to him? Severus stood up and anxiously paced the area between his fireplace and couch, his face looking downwards and his long black hair obscuring his view on either side. He was suddenly furious; not with Hermione, but with himself. What if something happened to her?

There was little he could do in his chambers, and so he decided to step through the Floo and insist that Hermione come home immediately. He walked into the green flames and came out into his mother's deserted living room.

He pulled out his wand as he noticed the table that had broken, lying in pieces on the floor at his feet. He became highly alert, his hands beginning to shake as panic set in. He quickly looked throughout the apartment, and found Kipling underneath the blankets of Eileen's bed, as well as Quill perched on her armoire. His family was gone.

The amount of regret he felt was overwhelming. Why hadn't he gone with her? He walked back towards the fireplace and slumped to his knees. His mother, his wife, his son, all taken from him… and it was his fault. Oh, what a fool he had been.

Severus looked down beside his knee and saw, among the splinters of wood, Hermione's wand. He picked it up, holding the beautifully carved wood between his fingers, and a feeling of exasperation overwhelmed him. He placed it before him on the floor, stood up, pointed his own wand at it, and whispered, "_Prior Incantato_." A jet of red light shot out of the end of Hermione's wand, and it confirmed Severus's worst fears. She had been fighting someone when she was taken.

Suddenly, the fire began to hiss and spit. Severus summoned Hermione's wand, stowed it in his cloak, and raised his wand. A tall man stepped through, and Severus gritted his teeth in anger, glaring at the black-haired intruder. It was Harry, who seemed no more delighted to see his old Potions Master.

"How did you get here?" he seethed. "Where are they, Potter?"

"Don't speak to him that way!" exclaimed Ginny, climbing out behind her husband. All three had their wands raised, as though poised to fight. "Where is Hermione?"

"The Floo was left open," Harry explained, unflinchingly. "Whoever recently opened it destroyed the barrier." He and Ginny looked horrified as they realized the signs of a struggle that had taken place in the room. "We're too late," he said, his face full of shame.

"What do you mean you're late? Why were you coming through here at this moment?" questioned Severus, fiercely.

Ginny explained, "Hermione said if we had not received an owl from her within an hour, her plan had probably failed. She said to enter the Floo of the living quarters adjacent to the library."

"She had a _plan_?" He realized what that entailed, and asked, "You _let _her offer herself as bait?"

"We wanted to be here, but she would not allow us. Lucius stole the Marauder's Map, the map that shows the floor plan of Hogwarts and everyone inside of it. He would not attack if he could see that we were there," Ginny obstinately rebutted, not wanting Severus to gain the upper hand. Harry saved his breath. "She said she knew what she was doing."

"Obviously, she was wrong." The fire began to hiss again, and Severus pointed his wand towards it, waiting for another person to come through. However, it was not a person, but a letter, which shot out of the fireplace and landed on the floor.

Severus summoned it, turning it over in his hands before breaking the green wax seal of the envelope and pulling out the letter. Upon it, in green lettering, read:

_We have them._

_The gates open at midnight._

Severus looked at the clock; it was nearly quarter to twelve. He noticed something at the bottom of the envelope, and pulled it out. It was Hermione's wedding ring.

The paper and envelope burst into green flames and Severus dropped it, watching as it curled up and turned to ash. He shut his eyes and closed his fingers around the small piece of metal that belonged to the person that meant everything to him, knowing very well that he could lose her and it would be no one's fault but his own.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! The next chapter will be out relatively soon, within the next few weeks... I promise I won't neglect you anymore!


	23. The Battle at Malfoy Manor

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

Hermione woke up and found herself on the wooden floor of Lucius Malfoy's living room, her back aching and her mouth dry. She saw nine figures surrounding her, and as her vision became clearer she realized it was a group of robed figures which stood in a circle, and she was in the center. As Hermione moved, she realized how every muscle and joint hurt her, causing her to believe that they had not set her down kindly but instead allowed her to fall when they transported her. Beside her was Eileen, who was still out cold. Hermione didn't know whether she should shake her or let her be - they were helpless either way. She noticed that the fireplace was behind her, and the wall to her left had windows which ran from the ceiling to the floor, offering a view of the grounds in front of the manor. The furniture in the room had been pushed aside to allow for the group of Death Eaters.

She knew them all by sight. Avery was the tall blond Slytherin who Severus had shared his dorm with during his time at Hogwarts. He was the one who had teased him and torn up his picture of Lily, and then persuaded Severus to become a Death Eater. He was thin and gaunt, and looked down at Hermione as a hungry cat would look at its prey. Selwyn and Travers stood beside him, their arms folded, both looking quite pleased with their catch. Jugson was staring at Macnair, who looked quite dazed. He had not yet fully recovered from the stunning spell Hermione had cast on him. Augustus Rookwood stared at her blankly, and Hermione recoiled from the pock-marked, greasy-haired man. Nott and Rowle stood completely still, only their blue eyes moving as they looked from Hermione to Lucius, who noticed that his captive was now awake. She looked up at him with hatred, noticing the dark circles under his eyes, the rough gray stubble on his chin, and his jet black robes which made his light skin look sickly. He looked mad, not half the man he had once been.

"Your wand," Lucius demanded smoothly, pointing his own at her. She suddenly came to realize that hers was not tucked along the inside of her robes, and turned white. Because she remained unmoving, Lucius spat, "Stand up." She did, slowly, awkwardly, her legs shaking because of the pain she felt in them. His hand suddenly grabbed her wrist and he turned her, pressing his stomach to her back, reaching around her middle and darting his hand into her robes.

"Don't you _dare_ touch me," she cried out, madly trying to break away from his iron grip. The group of Death Eaters began to close in, looking as though they greatly enjoyed her struggle.

His grip around her only tightened. "Don't be a _fool_," he hissed in her ear. There was something within his voice that sent chills down her spine - he truly enjoyed her discomfort. Lucius searched her, but still could not find a wand. He tried summoning it with his own, but his attempt failed. "You truly are wandless? Oh well – only better for us."

He released her, and she stepped away, her hands balled into fists and her face tense with anger as she spun to face him. Eileen began to stir and Hermione quickly knelt down to her side, helping her mother-in-law into a sitting position. Eileen was horrified to see all the men staring down at them and she shrank away, pulling Hermione towards her and holding her close. She placed a thin hand over her face, as though to hide her tears.

"Well, you have us now," Hermione snapped defensively, turning her head to look at Lucius. "What is it that you want?"

He knelt down before her, and muttered through gritted teeth, "You know perfectly well what it is that I want."

Hermione looked up at him, confused, before a deep voice rumbled, "Perhaps you should release them, Lucius, for the conflict is between you and I alone."

Both Hermione and Lucius stood to see Severus Snape not ten feet from them, in the doorway. He was extremely pale, his cloak wrapped around him haphazardly and his hair tousled enough to suggest how much he had hurried. His black eyes went from his wife to his mother, and Hermione could not remember him looking so desperate, his lips slightly parted as though short of breath.

"Severus!" cried Hermione. She tried pushing her way towards her husband, unable to tear her eyes from him, but was held back by the group of men and finally restrained by Nott, the tip of his wand pressed against her throat. She did not look frightened, but felt surprise and longing. Eileen was brusquely pulled to her feet by Jugson, and held in a similar fashion.

"I'm please to see you've received my letter," Lucius said, grinning evilly.

Severus did not speak, but instead watched as the robed men fanned out across the room, two to each of the three doorways, Selwyn and Travers hovering close to Severus in the doorway that he just emerged from. Nott and Jugson stood on either side of the fireplace with Eileen and Hermione. Whatever they were planning, it had been well rehearsed beforehand.

"Priorities first, Severus…. Hand me your wand," Lucius demanded sweetly, as though he was speaking to a child. Severus narrowed his eyes, watching as Nott's wand dug into Hermione's throat. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, staring at Lucius from underneath his heavy brows, and then conceded, stepping forward, reaching into his cloak, and pulling out the long black wand that had once been his mother's. His fury was silent, hidden behind his mask-like face which did not stray from Lucius's. He watched his opponent suspend his wand in mid-air, raising it so it floated near the ceiling and out of reach.

Hermione realized that they were overpowered, three to one, and the situation was worsening. How could she have been so stupid? Hiding away for the rest of her life would have been easier than what she was facing now….

"Wonderful," Lucius grinned evilly. "It is exactly as the Dark Lord would have wanted."

"He's been gone seven years now," Severus said, his low voice rumbling, "and you're still too frightened to speak his name?"

Lucius Malfoy looked as though he had a bad taste in his mouth, but he then turned and walked towards Hermione. "I see you have grown fond of filth, Severus," he taunted, his voice full of arrogance and pride, but soft all the same. "Some time ago, I had thought you were a better man. But, then, you were the person who betrayed us all." Hermione wondered what he meant by that, but her thought process was interrupted by Lucius stepping closer to her. She drew as far away from him as possible without touching Nott. "A Mudblood would be the _only_ kind suited for you." He picked up his cane and pressed the silver snake's head against the skin of her jaw, exposing her neck as she furrowed her brow and looked away. "I hardly understand what you see in her."

"How is it that you are overriding the Floo?" Severus asked, as though to distract Lucius. He remained incredibly tense and still, his knuckles white as he balled his fists.

"Ah, so you have found me out," Lucius remarked, drawing away from Hermione before placing his hands behind his back and leaning on the cane.

"It was rather obvious, Lucius, according to the reports. Perhaps next time, the imbeciles who carry out your orders would be intelligent enough to clear the tracks of ash they left behind in the homes they had broken into."

Whereas Lucius's malevolent grin had disappeared, Hermione watched as a glimmer of a smirk appear on Severus's lips. The blond haired man took a step forward and then began slowly circling around Severus, as though he was a predator anxious to kill, but at the same time enjoyed having his prey at his mercy. "Working in the Ministry comes with special privileges, Severus. I was able to acquire a master key of sorts, allowing me access to the Floo system. Not only were we able to _move_ freely, but it proved easy enough to tap into individual hearths and have a _listen_ once the barriers were opened." Hermione blanched, and Eileen whimpered slightly. "I am certain you recall the night I resurrected the Dark Mark. I had wondered why you refused to join me, dear Severus…. We opened the barrier to your fireplace and heard you speak of the Dark Lord's tactics, attacking on the old days of magic. We thought surely you would have prepared for tonight with your prior knowledge, but here you are, defenseless, at my mercy. All the time in the world could not have prevented your capture…." Lucius was nearly halfway around, speaking towards Severus's back. "And your little Mudblood disclosed her efforts to outwit _us _not thirty minutes ago, as we listened through the grate. Would you still consider her to be the brightest witch of her age? Her fight wasn't even a valiant one," he said, his tone a teasing one. "I could have killed her then, only too easily. But I knew you would come for her. I wanted to see you suffer… I _want _to see you suffer…."

Lucius was to Severus's immediate left, watching the Potions Master struggle inwardly with his thoughts. "If I let you have me," Severus began slowly, "will you let them go?"

"N-no!" cried Eileen, making herself heard for the first time. "D-don't, S-Severus!"

"Pity that you choose now to be heroic, Severus," spat Lucius, "for you are in no position to ask for compromise. Why should I let them both go, when I can have all three of you?"

"You would find no satisfaction in our captivity," Severus stated. "What is it that you truly want?"

Lucius stood directly in front of Severus, not two feet away from him, and his expression was savage, nearly livid. "I want to know why Mr. Potter had you pardoned," he seethed through gritted teeth. "I want to know why you were not thrown into Azkaban with the rest of us. I want to know whose side you were on, for _twenty_ long years."

Severus remained silent, his jaw visibly tight.

"But there is more to it than that," Lucius continued, quietly. Everyone was silent. The only sounds in the room were that of Lucius's voice and the crackling of the fire. "It is not you or your Mudblood wife that I was most keen to retrieve…." He paced slowly towards Eileen, eyeing her closely before wrapping his fingers around her arm. He jerked her away from Jugson with such force that she stumbled before catching her balance, now standing between her son and her captor. Lucius smirked. Eileen was trembling.

"Easy, now, the old lady doesn't have her wand," Jugson mumbled.

"'The old lady?'" Lucius scoffed. "Surely, you know who this is. Anyone?" he asked, looking malevolently from person to person.

"That'd be th' ol' librarian 'ad 'Ogwarts," Travers said, roughly. Hermione realized that Eileen had been able to retain her features as Irma and keep herself from changing back into her natural appearance. She was surprised that she had not lost control from fear.

"So it would seem," Lucius hissed quietly. His expression was that of a mad man. He pointed his wand at Severus's mother, and said, "Show yourself, Eileen." She shook her head, too terrified to utter a word. Everyone's eyes were focused upon her and Lucius, waiting to see what would happen. "No? All right then. _Crucio!_"

Eileen fell to the floor, screaming in agony, and Hermione burst into tears. Severus looked as though something inside him had broken, for he was unable to do anything but watch his mother writhe on the ground. She lost control, her gray hair growing in length and darkening to jet black, her skin changing from yellowed to white, her limbs lengthening. Several of the Death Eaters' eyes opened wide as they realized what was happening.

Lucius removed the spell. Eileen lay on the floor on her stomach and ceased to move, still except for the heaving of her chest as she panted, trying to catch her breath. She grimaced, before flashing Lucius a glare of pure hatred with her dark grey eyes as she looked up at him.

There was no doubt who she was.

"Ah, yes…. I remember your face, at the Ministry." Hermione realized that he spoke of Hermione's and Severus's wedding day, and the glimpse he had caught of Eileen when he had frightened her. Did he remember her face from his childhood, when she had broken into his house in an attempt to steal Tom Riddle's diary and he had caught her in the clothes of his father? "I had my suspicions, but surely… you should have been long gone by now…." It was as if he was speaking to himself, lost within his mind. "You were a Metamorphmagus, simply hiding within your own skin as someone else…. What a clever disguise, to exist overlooked as an unassuming librarian," he said, looking upon his company in the room, "I procured a useful… instrument, from no less than Mr. Potter, which aided me in my discovery. You see, it was a map," he went on, pacing the wooden floor. He noticed Severus's knowing look, and asked, "You are familiar with it?"

"How did you learn of it?" Severus's deep voice rumbled. Eileen was still in incredible pain but was able to struggle to her feet. She was now as tall as the men, who did not seem keen on treating her roughly as they once had.

"Pettigrew had mentioned it to the Dark Lord on numerous occasions in an attempt to earn his favor. However, cracking it proved slightly more complicated than retrieving it. Potter did not share the access to his treasure as I had thought, and it wasn't until we were able to locate Mr. Weasley that it became all too easy to cast an Imperius Curse and demand he show us how to read it." Hermione now understood the purpose of the break-ins, and was happy that Ron had remained safe despite it. "And it was not long before I discovered Severus Snape's visits to a woman I had thought gone during the First Wizarding War. Eileen Prince, his mother."

The Death Eaters in the room looked bewildered, eyeing one another in awe. "What business did you have with her?" Severus spat.

Lucius did not answer, but instead walked towards the windows, staring out into the night. "Did the Dark Lord not give you a task when you were a boy, Severus? Did he not ask something of you which required great sacrifice? An action that would prove… you were similar to him?" Severus did not say a word, but allowed him to continue uninterrupted. "The Dark Lord murdered his own father as a young man. I have heard that you followed in his footsteps in quite a similar, if not exact, fashion." Hermione watched Eileen's face, wondering how the thought of her son killing her husband affected her. She remained unflinching. "My son Draco was instructed by the Dark Lord to murder the school's foolish Headmaster. I was also given a similar task, in my sixth year. However, the person I was appointed to kill has eluded me. She has hidden so effectively, I was certain she had died, a fatality gone unnoticed. She had remained a quiet defeat until I saw her name upon the map I have procured from Mr. Potter." He slowly paced towards Eileen, and when he met her they both drew up to their full heights, as though sizing the other up. He had only an inch on her. "You have eluded me all my life," he muttered furiously, "and yet were directly underneath my nose…. I have long since wondered what threat it was that a woman like you, a witch who married a _Muggle_, could pose against the Dark Lord."

"I had n-nothing to do with your Dark Lord," Eileen mumbled, in an attempt to be brave. "Why would he stage an attack against the m-mother of one of his b-best men?" Hermione was unsure what she was thinking by saying that, but it did not throw Lucius off.

"Your lie is laughable, Eileen. Do you truly believe the Dark Lord was interested in a boy of mixed blood?" Lucius sneered. "His initial use for recruiting Severus was to find you." Hermione closed her eyes, unable to comprehend what she was hearing. "Unfortunately, you had already taken refuge elsewhere by the time your son became a Death Eater, for all of his movements were constantly tracked and you were never located." He stepped away, and demanded, "Tell me, what is it about you that the Dark Lord was so frightened of?"

"I d-don't k-know," Eileen replied, her feigned bravery crumbling as she trembled.

"Do speak the truth, or I shall have to utilize this." He pulled out the flask of Veritaserum Hermione had originally stowed within her robes, to her shock and horror. He had to have taken it from her when he searched her for her wand.

Eileen gulped in fear. "I… I attended H-Hogwarts with him, as a s-student. I knew him as T-Tom Riddle." She stopped, and Hermione realized that Lucius was pacing around the room again.

"Go on," Lucius demanded.

Eileen paused before starting again. "I k-knew about his aspirations to f-fulfill Salazar Slytherin's l-legacy. I k-knew he hated Muggle-borns. I k-knew about the Chamber of S-Secrets, the m-monster, and the girl he k-killed. I k-knew about the d-diary, within which he w-wrote his plans. I s-saw him for what he was when n-no one else did. He was a m-murderer."

Lucius smiled, pleased with the information he had received. "Yes, Eileen, he was a murderer. And yet, despite decades of searching, you eluded him. But not me," he muttered. "No, not me."

Hermione heard an unexpected creak of the floorboard beside her and was startled, but she realized Nott had moved backwards a step, shifting his weight because of the pressure standing so long had put on his feet. Hermione's heart was in her throat as Lucius halted again beside the window.

"I am bringing you to justice tonight, Severus Snape, for the betrayal of the Dark Lord and his followers. I am going to murder your mother," he said, staring out upon the full moon, the light of which poured upon the grounds of the manor, "your wife," he added, smiling wolfishly to himself, "and then you. You deserve no family, nor happiness." He turned to face Severus. "It is what the Dark Lord would have wanted - the death of the man who betrayed us all."

"There will be no blood spilled today besides your own, Lucius," Severus replied, stepping forward. Sewlyn and Travers placed their hands on his shoulders, in an attempt to hold him back.

"Oh, I highly doubt that. Where is your Order? They are not here to help you," he hissed.

Hermione closed her eyes, her head tilted backwards. She could not bear it any longer. They were going to die, and it was entirely her fault. And yet, the only person she could think of was her son. He would be like Harry, an orphan. He would not know his mother or father, or have memories of them. He would not know how much they loved him. But Harry's parents did not go calmly - they put up a fight. She knew she would fight until she no longer could.

The floorboard behind her creaked again, loudly. She noticed this time, however, that Nott had not moved. She opened her eyes, and realized that Eileen and Jugson had noticed as well.

"I would not be so quick to assume, Lucius," Severus said, smirking.

Jugson's eyes had not left the spot from where the sound had issued. "What-"

"_Now!_" exclaimed someone to her right. Hermione could not believe her ears. It was Harry's voice.

The room instantly went black, as though all the lights had been extinguished. There was the sound of feet shuffling, a short gasp, a loud clatter of wood hitting wood, a strange buzzing, and Hermione felt someone's hand grab hers and pull her away from Nott, who was too stunned to react.

"Lumos maxima!" exclaimed Lucius, but to no avail. Everyone began to cough as Hermione followed the tug of the hand wrapped around hers. She realized that it had been Peruvian Instant Darkness powder which had caused the lights to go out. The Death Eaters began shouting between each other to close the doors so that no one would be able to escape, but their calls were promptly cut off by the shattering of the glass windows.

"Brace yourself," a strong voice murmured into Hermione's ear. It was Neville. She felt the rush of air as they jumped out of the manor, landing in the flower beds after a ten foot drop. They rolled away quickly, and Hermione got to her feet. She felt arms embrace her, and she began to sob. It was Ron.

"Ron! How did-"

"There's no time," he replied, urgently pulling her towards the shelter of the bushes. He was still wearing a Shielding Cloak, and consequently parts of him were flickering in between being visible and invisible. Eileen and Ginny were already waiting for her, beckoning her by the motions of their hands.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Mr. Weasley, George, and Neville rushing across the gravel path in her direction, and then watched as Harry, Luna, and Severus toppled out of the window, several spells shooting out after them. "Severus!" she shrieked, slipping away from Ron and running in the direction of the manor.

Mr. Weasley caught her arm. "Get to shelter first!" he exclaimed. She unwillingly obliged, watching Severus get to his knees and ensure Luna was in one piece.

"Professor!" Luna exclaimed softly, after they stood up and were hurrying towards the rest of the group. "I have your wand. It landed on my head when it fell from the ceiling after the room went black. Here, sir." She pulled it out from her Shielding Cloak which was layered with an odd, lime green sweater, and handed it to him, her luminous blue eyes glancing into his as she smiled. "I'm glad it didn't break. That would have been awfully bad luck."

"Thank you, Miss Lovegood," he replied, accepting it back before concentrating in order to find his way back to the others.

Hermione ran along the gravel path, winding through the maze-like gardens until everyone she was with was out of breath.

"We must head to the gates!" panted Mr. Weasley, who was older and had slowed to a jog. "We can only Disapparate once outside!" They stood together, resting, and Hermione watched as Severus, Luna, and Harry brought up the rear. However, red spells soared over their heads, and they ducked to dodge them, the foliage around them being blasted away. They separated, Hermione running after Severus, Harry, and Luna, and the rest scattering towards the gates. Lucius's men had split up as well, evident by the wild spells shooting in every direction. Severus and Harry both stood against the hedge which shielded them up to eye-level as they sent curses at Travers and Jugson, making loud fizzes and bangs. Hermione reached Luna, who was crouching next to the bushes, and knelt beside her.

Luna did not seem to notice, but instead pulled her wand out from underneath her cloak, pointed it directly at Travers through the leaves, and twirled it. He was put into a body-bind, collapsing backwards and becoming immobile. Severus finished Jugson off by stunning him, and then hurried to Hermione. Harry remained where he was, on the lookout for other Death Eaters among the bushes, while Luna guarded the opposite end of the hedge.

Hermione stood up, tears streaming down her cheeks, and embraced her husband, trying as hard as she could to stifle her sobs by pressing her face into his chest. "I'm so sorry," she choked, shaking her head, feeling his fingers brush through her hair.

"Are you all right? Where's Lucan?" he asked, desperately.

"He's safe, he's at the Burrow," she explained.

"Hermione, how could you have planned this without telling me?" Before she could respond, a bright red light flashed overhead, and they ducked to dodge it.

Once kneeling on the ground, she explained, "You would have refused! _I_ can't live my whole life in fear!" He did not rebut her, but instead seemed lost in his thoughts. She felt a rush of guilt because of her words. "I didn't mean-"

"Here is your wand," he said, handing it to her. A feeling of happiness and security rushed over her - it would have been impossible to defend herself without it.

"Where did you-"

"I discovered it on my mother's floor when I went looking for you."

"You had it under your cloak the whole time?" He did not respond, and was instead watching as Rowle walked in their direction, highly alert and on edge. "What's wrong with his face?" Hermione murmured. He was covered in red bumps, and she realized that it was not only on his face but over all of his visible skin.

"Billywigs," Harry said, out of breath and immediately crouching beside her. "George brought the box of them that you sent from Hagrid. I released them after everyone else had gotten out. Great defense, really; if you get bitten you tend to levitate and have trouble getting back down from the ceiling for a while…. I'd hoped it would be a good distraction."

"How did you organize everyone?"

"We sent Patronuses with messages as soon as we could," responded Harry, looking through the branches at the manor. Lucius had still not been seen. "We Apparated outside the gates here, George gave us all Shielding Cloaks, I had my old cloak, and when the gates opened we walked through together. I thought I was a goner when the floorboard creaked."

Hermione looked up at the broken windows, watching as the last of the black smoke drifted out and a cloud of bright blue insects flew along the side of the mansion, above the roof, and away into the sky. She had been distracted, and Rowle, who had seen her, cast a curse which flew so close to her cheek that she could feel it pass by.

She turned, flicking her wand in his direction. He dodged it, sending a purple ball of light towards her. The hedge in front of her immediately caught on fire, and she took the opportunity to run, throwing jinxes over her shoulder while trying to weave her way through the gardens. Harry and Luna had separated from Severus and her, and she was unsure where they had gone. Severus was beside her, trying to determine what the best course of action was now. Curses were flying from all directions and they could not hide effectively, for the moon was full and the light shone down upon the frenzy that was unfolding. To make matters worse, they had only made it halfway towards the gate.

Rowle had caught up to them, and Severus stopped, grabbing her elbow as well. "We must hold our ground!" he exclaimed. "He's directing us towards the others!" It was true, she realized, as she wordlessly sent hexes in the Death Eater's direction and listened to the loud bangs and hisses which signified fighting not too far from where they stood. She heard the crunch of leaves underfoot nearby, but could not tell who caused the noise.

Hermione and Severus stood side by side, fighting for their lives. She had never properly dueled with a man like Rowle, a man who with every spell wanted to take her life. She did not want to hurt him terribly, but at the same time had to realize he would show her no mercy if he had the choice. He was incredibly skilled, for he was outnumbered yet holding his own against Severus and Hermione both. However, he was not quick enough, and between spells Hermione hit him with a jinx that caused him to lose sensation in his arms and legs so that he fell to the ground. He was incapacitated for now, but she knew the effect would wear off eventually.

They stood for a moment, listening, and took a right, silently weaving through short evergreen trees, passing white-washed trellises with vines tightly clinging to them and a small statue of a hippogriff. Fires had erupted among the dead grasses and dried flower beds, causing much of the gardens to now be obscured by smoke.

Severus pulled her so they stood against a section of the hedge, partially hidden from view, which opened up into a large paved courtyard with a gurgling fountain in the center. It was strangely still all of a sudden, the only sound the swaying of the branches in the wind, the rush of the fountains, and the strangle mewing of a peacock in the distance.

"Go to the gates," he ordered. "You must get out. Avoid the others, and don't look back."

"W-what about you?" she stammered.

His face was hard with resolve. "I must face Lucius"

"No, Severus - I w-won't leave you," she insisted, stamping her foot.

He looked away, and then his eyes met hers, searching them deeply. "You were right, Hermione," he admitted delicately. "I was a coward."

"No-"

"If we have a chance for peace, this is it." He cupped her cheek with the palm of his hand. "I just refused to see it."

"You're not a coward," she whispered, shaking her head, placing her hand over his. "I love you more than anything." Her despair was so great she could barely look at him, and she was instead focusing on fighting back uncontrollable tears.

"I love _you_. Now, go. Go!" he exclaimed after her, his hand dropping from her cheek.

Hermione looked panicked as she backed away from him into the open courtyard and turned away, focusing on what she had to do and where she was headed. However, she had not taken two steps when a bright flash of light erupted from the across the courtyard and hit her in the chest.

She tasted blood in her mouth and clutched the open wound across her middle, dropping her wand and shaking as warm blood pooled out over her hand. She gasped, vomited, stumbled and fell as her legs gave out beneath her. Severus was already at her side, kneeling and pulling her to his chest as she groaned in pain. The throbbing was so all-consuming that she almost fell unconscious from the sheer intensity of it, her ability to control her body coming and going as her arms and legs shook from spasms which contracted the muscles around the wound. Her hands reached for something to grab onto as if to alleviate what she felt, but it only worsened, and her stomach began to heave as though she would vomit again. Severus pulled out his wand and laid it over her wounds, bending over her and stroking her arm to comfort her. She had lost a lot of blood, almost too much blood. Her forehead was shiny with sweat, and she cried out in pain. His voice cracked as he performed the healing spell, and she felt the unbearable pain of her tissue reconnecting and being sewn back together. Suddenly, she felt a hot tear fall onto her cheek. It was his.

"How _touching,_" Lucius murmured, stepping out of the shadows and into the moonlight. His wand was between his fingertips. He played with it slightly, as though unsure whether to use it or savor the moment. He chose the latter.

Severus ignored Lucius, indifferent as to what he would do. Hermione, his beloved wife, was terribly hurt. He could not believe that he had allowed her to walk, even for a moment, unprotected through an open space in a battlefield. This was his fault, and the pain that he felt was almost as keen as hers. He could have lost her, the woman that he had cared more for than anyone else, only too easily.

When Severus had done what he could, he tenderly moved Hermione onto a small patch of grass on the edge of the courtyard, his arms shaking. He pointed his wand towards the sky and set up a shower of golden sparks. Lucius watched it all without stopping him or saying anything. The members of the Order who had seen the sparks, as well as the Death Eaters, were now heading in their direction.

Severus looked at Lucius with a ferocity that he had never seen before. All of a sudden, he was viciously sending curse after curse in Lucius's direction. He quickly deflected them, but did not have enough time to return any of his own spells. He was defending himself, but only just. Flash after flash of light was sent at him, and he carefully repelled them all.

Severus pointed his wand towards dead leaves on the ground which had fallen from the plants blasted away. They shot up into the air and towards Lucius, and because of the difficulty he had deflecting them some of the leaves left cuts along his pale skin, leaving faint red marks. Severus then quickly twisted his wand towards the fountain which they were dueling beside. His adversary watched as water ran upwards in coils, collapsing upon and drenching him, his waterlogged robes restricting the movements of his wand hand. Severus pointed his wand towards the trellis directly behind Lucius, and the vine entwined in it slowly began to grow, twisting around Lucius's legs and arms. He wildly motioned at the vine, trying to sever its branches, but to no avail - they were strong and fast, whipping themselves around his body and pulling him towards the trellis.

As a last attempt, Lucius swung his wand at his opponent. Severus was struck backwards by the blow, which left a large gash in his shoulder. Dark blood welled up, dampening the torn cloth of his cloak. Lucius snarled - he had been aiming for his neck.

"No," choked Hermione, who was flitting between consciousness and unconsciousness, her hand on her stomach. She had seen the blow Lucius had dealt her husband, but could not move. Severus did not turn around, but grabbed his left shoulder with his wand hand, gritting his teeth and struggling against the pain.

Suddenly, Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Harry, and Neville appeared behind Severus, their wands raised. None had sustained major wounds, but all were muddy, with scratches upon their hands and faces from running through the overgrown brambles and bushes. Severus, panting from the concentration and effort it had taken to duel Lucius, saw the fear in his opponent's eyes. That was the reaction he had wanted. He was completely undefended and vulnerable, his wand still clutched in his hand now completely pinned back, along with his body, against the lattice by the vines Severus had enchanted to surround him. Severus noticed the mud stains on Lucius's cloak and the leaves caught in his hair, and wondered when it was that he had turned from simply power hungry to a man who was fundamentally broken and mad.

Harry moved quickly to stand beside Severus and extended his arm in one explosive movement. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, sending Lucius's wand flying towards them. Ginny caught it, stowed it in her cloak, and looked at Lucius who was fuming with anger.

"I see you've never learned anything besides how to disarm, Potter," spat Lucius.

Harry stepped forward, a smug look on his face. "Apparently I never had to." Lucius looked even more infuriated.

Eileen and Luna hurried along the maze-like hedge. They saw Hermione and dropped to their knees, casting soft golden and silver healing charms to lessen her pain. Eileen knelt beside her, running her fingers through Hermione's hair to calm her like a mother would to a child as she tried to turn her head to see what was happening. They were shielded by the others, who stood in front of them. George and Ron were the last to arrive, and fanned out along the courtyard, watching the bushes for a surprise attack.

However, from the hedge behind Lucius appeared two of his men, Avery and Rookwood. They both looked prepared for more dueling, but were weighing their options - they were the ones now outnumbered. They stared in disbelief at how Lucius was trapped.

"Lower your wands," Harry ordered of the Death Eaters. "You'll be tried at the Ministry for crimes against the innocent." When they refused, he said, louder, "If you don't lower them, we'll be forced to stun you." They unwillingly complied. "And this time, you'll find the Ministry isn't as corrupt as you would like," Harry jibed.

Ginny and Neville stepped forward, binding Avery and Rookwood with thick ropes and marching them towards the manor. Lucius had to be extracted carefully, but he too was bound.

Harry then took charge, directing the remainder of the group. "George, Ron, Ginny, go around _together _to collect the rest of the Death Eaters. Don't split up - they might attack if you do. Luna and-" He paused, unsure what to call Severus's mother.

"Eileen," she supplied, quickly. She was still kneeling on the ground, Hermione's head in her lap.

"Eileen, get Hermione and… er… Professor Snape to St. Mungo's, they need medical attention.

"I'll send a Patronus to Kingsley," Mr. Weasley added, "and another to Molly. I know she's sick with worry."

They split up, Hermione gently being levitated by Severus who was silent and grim. Her eyes were closed, as she had now fallen unconscious. Harry led them towards the manor, and they silently moved using stony pathways laid down between the bushes. He eventually found a small wooden door on the side of the manor, which he opened and walked through. Eileen stood behind her son, and they both ducked their heads as they entered the room, which turned out to be an old kitchen.

They walked through it, passing old copper pans hanging on the ashen walls, a stove, and a large fireplace. As they left the kitchen and walked into the grand foyer, Eileen reminisced about being an intruder so many years ago under the guise of Abraxas Malfoy. How grand it had been then, richly decorated with tapestries and golden chandeliers, a fire in every hearth and the floors white and spotless. Now, it seemed as though it had fallen into complete disrepair.

They walked through several chambers, passing through the room which held a long dining table, before ending up back in the main living room. Neville and Ginny stood with Avery and Rookwood, waiting for the rest to catch up. Mr. Weasley was behind Severus, Hermione, Eileen, and Luna, already having sent his messages and ready to escort Harry and the prisoners to the Ministry.

Severus made for the fireplace, throwing a small bit of Floo Powder into the grate. "Are you coming?" he asked his mother, who was standing timidly by the doorway.

"I'll be there in a moment," she explained. He quickly disappeared with Hermione without another word. "Harry?" asked Eileen, as though trying to get his attention. He turned around, having been watching the fire in the hearth, and noticed that she seemed to be lost in thought. "I think… I think I remember something about this room."

He looked confused, and said, "Go on." Lucius stood silently beside him, his lips thin and eyes narrowed.

"I've been here before," she admitted. "And - Luna, might I borrow your wand?" Luna nodded, smiling, offering it to her quickly. Eileen knelt upon the flagstones in front of her, beside the door, taking the wand in her hand and tapping three different tiles as Dobby had done when he had thought she was Abraxas. Suddenly, a golden handle appeared. She pulled at it, revealing a small passageway in the floor as it lifted.

Harry's eyes grew large as he realized what had happened. Neville and Ginny remained to guard the Death Eaters while the rest descended into the hidden room.

"I think they called it the Room of Relics," Eileen explained as they walked down the wooden stairs.

"Who told you about this?" asked Harry, keeping his balance and watching as the torches along the walls lit to reveal a large room with a low ceiling, filled with bookshelves, old cloaks, skulls, and other strange odds and ends.

"The Malfoy's house-elf, Dobby," she explained. "He was the one who showed me how to open this room." Harry's face immediately froze, and she wondered what it was about what she had said that made him look so saddened.

"Now, don't – touch – _anything_," said Mr. Weasley, looking over the old canes, strange instruments, suits of armor, jewelry, and hundreds of books. "The whole lot might be cursed. This is for the Ministry to deal with. Go upstairs and wait until someone from the Ministry gets here to sort it out."

They began to head up when Harry said, "Hang on." He had noticed a brown sack haphazardly placed at the bottom of the stairs, the contents of which were spilled out upon the floor. "It looks like Floo Powder," Harry noted, kneeling beside it. However, at closer inspection, he realized that it was a dark purple powder, not green as it should have been.

"Perhaps that's the 'master key' Lucius was on about," explained Mr. Weasley. "The Ministry probably has stores of it in order to be able to travel to any fireplace attached to the Floo Network in case of an emergency. Unfortunately for us, he was able to get his hands on it."

"We had better start getting everyone to the Ministry," said Harry, standing up and making his way up the stairs. Luna was the last one out, closing the wooden door behind her and watching as it reverted back to appearing as a flagstone, the handle disappearing as well. Harry turned to Eileen and said, "Thank you, for showing that to us. It'll help our case against him."

Eileen blushed and smiled. "I was saved by the great Harry Potter tonight," she replied. "I am the one who is thankful."

Harry blushed as well, and then turned to Neville. They took Lucius, Avery, and Rookwood through the fireplace, their wands held out in front of them to deter any attempt to escape. Luna and Eileen helped clean up both Mr. Weasley and Ginny, who had luckily sustained only minor scrapes. They appeared exhausted, but left the room to help the others collect the remaining Death Eaters. As Eileen looked out upon the sky through the broken windows, she noticed the moon was still high, full and bright. It couldn't have been three in the morning yet.

A cold draft blew in through the jagged panes, and Luna shivered slightly. "Don't you want to fix the windows?" she asked. "It's rather chilly in here, don't you think?"

"Yes, it is," Eileen replied, twisting her hands together nervously. "But I can't help you."

"Why not?" Luna asked, genuinely curious.

"I don't have a wand," she said quietly.

To her surprise, Luna did not seem shocked or confused. Instead, she explained, "Just because you don't have a wand doesn't mean you can't do magic."

Eileen looked touched. "But I haven't really tried any magic like this in years," she sighed.

"That doesn't matter; it's like riding a broomstick, you never really forget how." Luna smiled at her, before adding, "But you have to try."

Eileen nodded, faced the window and stood up straight. She paused, but then turned around and asked, "Will you help me?"

Luna nodded. "Of course." She pointed her wand towards the window and watched the older witch spread her arms, palms open, and lift them upwards. Eileen concentrated, and felt a great amount of emotion welling up from deep inside, thoughts and feelings she had repressed for decades - hope, true happiness, the freedom to live. She remembered how she and Severus had suffered, what they had sacrificed, and all they had survived.

She heard the scraping of glass against the wooden floor, and opened her eyes to see hundreds of shards suspended in mid-air around her. She looked around before moving her arms together and watching as all the debris, wood and glass both, converged, creating hundreds of individual panes which fused together seamlessly. When she had finished, she lowered her hands and stepped back, astonished.

"See?" Luna said, smiling, twirling her wavy blonde hair with the tip of her wand. "My mum always said, 'You're more capable than you know.' I always thought she was right."

"Thank you, dear," she replied, tears causing her eyes to blur. She had never known what power lay within her, still. A sudden urgency seized her, and she explained. "I must go, I must see Severus and Hermione." Luna nodded, and with that, Eileen stepped through the fireplace and into the hospital.

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Hermione woke up in a hospital bed. She sat up quickly, not remembering how she got there, before laying back down upon the pillows. She was in a cot in a relatively small, dimly lit, private room. Around her middle were bandages, and she was still rather sore.

In front of her, sitting in a chair in the corner beside the door was Eileen, her chin to her chest as she dozed lightly, in a different set of robes than those Hermione had last seen her in. She also had not reverted to look like Madam Pince - she simply looked like herself. Hermione, with a sudden flutter to her stomach, wondered if perhaps it meant that she would come out of hiding. Perhaps it meant that she felt free, for the first time in nearly her whole life, with no great adversary waiting for her to make a wrong move before taking her life. But, maybe not. She was content with being the Hogwarts librarian, even if no one knew who she was. Perhaps _especially _because no one knew who she was.

Hermione looked to her right, and not three feet from her, in a similar bed as hers, was her husband, his shoulder bandaged several times over. He was sleeping as well, tucked into bed like a small child who was limp with exhaustion. She briefly panicked about Lucan, but remembered that he was safe. In a day or so, she would be completely healed and would leave and collect him from Mrs. Weasley. She looked forward to it.

Hermione suddenly realized that her wedding band had reappeared upon her finger, and she smiled to herself. Severus must have slipped it back on after they had arrived here.

She turned her head to study her husband's face. There were age lines around his eyes and feathered eyebrows. There were tiny streaks of gray in his hair which fell upon his pillow, and it saddened Hermione to think that he was aging - it meant he was mortal, something she couldn't face. It was difficult to think that time was always passing, and that he would always be aging. However, there was something drastically different about his appearance. His arms, which were above the blankets, were turned palm-up to expose his forearms. She noticed that all trace of the Dark Mark had gone. Tears came to her eyes when she saw that there wasn't even the faintest of green to prove it had ever existed.

_It's all over, _she thought, biting her lip to stop herself from crying. _It's finally all over._

* * *

This was my big, long awaited chapter that I've been wanting to write for nearly a year, and it's appropriate I should have it out the day of the last Harry Potter movie. My story is almost over, and I hope you have enjoyed it so far. I write to commemorate JKR's beautiful world, and although I am not the storyteller she is, I hope you have enjoyed what I have to say. I take writing very seriously, and only want to give you the best I have to offer. If you have gotten this far, I commend you, and thank you. Thank you for sharing this story with me, and thank you for sharing Harry Potter with me.


	24. The Very End

Harry Potter and his world belong to JKR

* * *

"Happy birthday, Severus," Hermione whispered. He smiled slightly, looking down upon her. She was on her side in bed, facing him, and they were both curled up under the blankets to keep warm. It was a cold January night, and Severus looked past his wife and out the window. It was snowing outside, blanketing the trees on the mountainside in fine, white powder. Thankfully, they had a fireplace in their bedroom to keep them warm.

It had been over five years since they had left Hogwarts, and since then they had built a house of their own in the mountains of Scotland. Hermione had joked that because Severus had spent so much of his life living underground, he should spend some time above it. He, however, took her wording literally, and they had ordered the construction of a veritable treehouse. It was held off the ground by magic, every room circular and separated from the others, as they were built around different trees, but connected to each other by stairs and thin hallways. The main staircase began on the ground level and led straight upwards into a large living room with many windows, offering a beautiful view of the forest and sloping hills towards the north. As the house was at the foot of a large hill, right at the edge of the woods, there was a large meadow in front of it. Branching off of the living room was the entrance into a large hallway which split three ways, leading into the kitchen and dining area as well as a guest bedroom, Lucan's bedroom, and their bedroom.

They enjoyed living a quiet but busy life, Severus retaining his position as Potions Master while Hermione homeschooled Lucan, who would be six years old in a month. He was bright, independent, and curious about the world, scrawny with youth, his hair and eyes black as his father's, but with a friendly disposition more like his mother's. He was everything they could have wanted in a son, and more.

They often had the Potters over for play dates, and likewise the Snapes visited them often. Harry and Severus had never learned to be completely amicable towards each other, but instead were simply respectful. The tension had eventually left the room after several visits, and they were able to find common ground to stand on when talking about their children.

Shortly after the battle at Malfoy Manor, Hermione had also tracked down her parents in Australia, restored their memories, and brought them back home. They were slightly shocked to find their daughter older, married, and with a son, but they eventually were able to understand why she did what she did, and fell back into their normal lives with ease.

"We've been together for nearly 12 years," Hermione remarked, quietly. "I think we've done well." She nestled her head into her pillow, her eyes not leaving his face.

His head was also resting against his pillow, his hands taking its familiar course along her brow, down her chin, finally resting upon her cheekbone. How many times had they lain together as they did now? When had it stopped being a novelty and become so ordinary?

"It would have been impossible to do any better," he murmured.

Hermione closed her eyes, listening to his breathing intently. "Do you… do you remember the first time we kissed?" she asked, giggling to herself at the thought.

"Of course," he whispered, and she could hear that he was grinning.

"Did… did you put that Amortentia on the table on purpose?"

"No, of course not. But why would that matter?"

Her hand slipped across his chest, and she squeezed his collarbone ever so slightly. "Because… it made me confess my feelings. If I hadn't smelled you in it… I don't know if we ever would have resolved anything."

"Perhaps we should simply be thankful that it was there." She smiled to herself, and then felt Severus slip his hand under her short nightgown, his fingers caressing her knee, her thigh, and her hip, before resting upon the long scar which ran across her middle, the one she had received from the curse Lucius had cast upon her. She flinched - even after five years, the scar was still sensitive. "Perhaps we should also be thankful that you survived this."

"And you, this," she said, opening her eyes and moving her hand to lightly press upon his shoulder, referring to the wound he had sustained. "I often think about what could have happened that night. If it had gone wrong, Lucan would not have had us, or remembered us. And you know… you know how we live for him."

Severus ran his tongue over his lips, before retracting it back into his mouth and looking down upon her nervously. "I have been meaning to ask you something," he began, withdrawing his hand and propping himself up with his left elbow. "I was wondering if we could try for another."

"Another what?" she asked, unsure if he meant what she thought he did.

"Another child, of course," he said, pressing his nose to hers and running his fingers across her jaw.

"Severus," she taunted, gently, "you never wanted a baby in the first place and now you want another?" She began running her hand along his chest unconsciously, petting him slowly with her palm before drumming her fingers.

"Well," he said quietly, "I didn't think I would be able to take care of a child. I didn't think I'd be much of a father."

She just bit her lip and smiled at him. "You're wonderful," she said, barely able to contain her happiness. "Let's have another."

"Just… one. And then that's it, no more; I'm getting too old to be a father."

"No you're not," she whispered, excited nonetheless. He _was_ getting older, though. His hair was graying slightly, and when she ran her fingers through it there were thin streaks of silver. He reciprocated before kissing her deeply, leaning over her and cupping her cheek with his palm. Their lips were pressed tightly together, and she suddenly felt his tongue searching for entry into her mouth.

She accepted it and felt his hands rushing over her body again as though wanting to feel every part of her. They broke apart only for a moment, to pull off their respective nightclothes, and then found each other again. His right hand slowly explored the area between her thighs, causing her to gasp and quiver as he teased her with his fingers.

Hermione pulled away, gently pushing him onto his back and straddling him, both still underneath the thick layer of blankets. She laid on his stomach, which rose and fell from his deep breathing, and she felt his hands running up and down the smooth skin of her back. Their noses touched, her lips met his again, and she smiled, looking at him through eyes half closed as though she could never love anyone more, propped up on her elbows and her hands twisting through his hair.

"Hermione," he said thickly, squeezing her shoulders in anticipation. "Oh, oh…" he moaned as she, on her knees, moved back and held his hard member in her hand before positioning it beneath her. She sat down upon it, and he moaned again as they connected. Her hands went to his shoulders to lean upon, and she moved up and down slowly. They gasped together from the sheer pleasure of it, and Severus's hands moved from Hermione's soft breasts to her smooth bottom to her strong thighs, and then up along her arms again. Hermione bent her head towards Severus's, her hair dangling over his face, as she panted heavily. His hair was spread out on the pillow behind him, his eyes closed and his mouth open as incredible sensations coursed through his body. "Oh, Hermione," he muttered, his body shaking as she continued to move up and down, grinding herself against him in earnest, the friction between their bodies almost overwhelming. To see Severus Snape in complete pleasure, completely unwound and raw and naked before her, still surprised and delighted her more than anything else imaginable.

Suddenly, she felt him shift under her. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up, his chest hot and sweaty, his lips against her ear as he took a momentary rest. Hermione wrapped her legs around his torso and her arms around his neck as he strained and lifted her from their bed. "Severus!" she exclaimed, surprised and thrilled. He strode across the room with her in his arms and pressed her back against the wall, beginning to penetrate her deeply, passionately, thrusting with long, full strokes which drove her to the edge as she held on around his neck.

There was only him. She had lost sensation and thought concerning everything else, and was completely at his mercy, completely lost in the movement of their bodies coming together. She leaned forward, moaning his name into his ear as she felt a great pressure within her preparing to be released. She cried out as she came, Severus's arms clasped firmly around her buttocks, and he let out short, deep gasps as he did too. He turned around and laid her back down in the middle of the bed, stroking in and out several times before finally collapsing beside her, all his energy spent. They both panted until they had caught their breath, the sheen of their sweat making their skin appear golden in the firelight.

Hermione turned on her side, pulling the covers down so she could slide back underneath them, and looked up at her husband. He was looking at her as well, just studying her face as she studied his, and she felt a rush of adoration for him - for his deep, grey, introspective eyes, his slick black hair, the light black fuzz which covered his legs and reached up towards his navel, his slightly yellowed skin that looked years younger since leaving the dungeons, his thin but soft lips, and not least of all his delightfully large, unique nose. She tangled her legs with his, resting her hand upon the hot skin of his chest and burrowing into his shoulder.

Severus lifted his left arm and Hermione wrapped hers around his chest as she laid on her side, resting her head upon his shoulder. She felt completely content, fulfilled, and safe. "I love you," she whispered, feeling his fingers thread through her hair.

He looked down at her, and the emotion that his eyes conveyed caused her throat to tighten. His lips touched her forehead, and he then murmured, "Oh, how I love _you_."

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_5 years later (2016)_

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"Mummy, what's a 'three-quarters?'" Whilom asked, his brown eyes bright with excitement as they stepped through onto the platform. Before waiting for an answer, he exclaimed, "Look, there's _owls_!"

"Come this way, Whil," Hermione said, taking her younger son's hand in her own clammy palm. He had straight brown hair, a full, round face, and took after Hermione completely except for the rather large nose he possessed that would most likely grow to resemble his father's. Lucan was beside his mother, pushing his school trunk on a trolley, and he looked sick with anxiety. "Severus," Hermione called behind her, through the crowd of wizarding families and owls and trolleys.

Severus strode through the barrier, holding his daughter, Antigone, in his arms, her head leaning against his shoulder. She looked a bit frightened from all the commotion, not used to so many people, and had wrapped her thin arms around her father's neck to gain a sense of safety. She was wearing a purple dress, her long black hair French braided down her back and her cheeks pink and rosy. She was the image of Eileen, possessing a true but understated beauty.

If Hermione had been in a calm, nostalgic mood, she would have taken a moment to fondly think of her daughter and Severus and what a strong bond they had. Hermione often referred to Antigone as her greatest surprise, for when she and Severus had gone to the hospital nearly five years ago to deliver one baby, they had come home with two. However, Hermione was in no such mood. Despite all of her careful planning, her attempt to get to London half an hour early was futile. Lucan's owl had refused to settle into her cage, Whilom didn't want to put his shoes on, and Antigone, not usually troublesome but taking a cue from her twin brother, had decided to be difficult and refused to brush her teeth after a late breakfast. Now, they had less than fifteen minutes to spare.

"Severus, get Lucan's trunk onto the train," she ordered. He obliged, taking the trolley from his son and heading towards the edge of the platform, his daughter still in his arms. "Are you nervous?" she asked, standing with Lucan in the midst of several other families while his father ensured his trunk and owl found their way onto the Hogwarts Express.

He nodded his head.

"Why?" she asked, quietly.

"Well," he began, as though he had thought it through beforehand, "I want to be in Slytherin _and_ Gryffindor... I want both you and Dad to be happy. But I don't know if they'll let me."

Hermione found herself on the verge of tears. She loved her son so much, and was taken aback by his wishes. She wrapped an arm around him - he only came up to her shoulder - and said, "You'll make both of us proud no matter what house you're in. And we mean it. Besides," she said, leaning her head towards him as Whilom tugged at her hand, too enthralled with the adventure of being around so many people to pay attention to what his mother was saying, "your House doesn't define who you are. You'd think I was rather clever, wouldn't you?" Lucan nodded, and she said, "Many have told me I was a very bright witch; some said the brightest witch of my age. I still wasn't put in Ravenclaw. You never can tell what the Sorting Hat will think of you. But it _will _put you where you will do best, and that's all we hope for. We hope you do your best," she said, pulling him in close and ruffling his hair, planting a doting kiss on his forehead.

Severus had returned, and Hermione could tell from the way he looked at her that he was requesting a moment alone with Lucan before they said their last goodbyes. Hermione took a reluctant Antigone into her arms and stepped back into the crowd, looking around for Harry and Ginny who would surely be on the platform as well to send James to school for his third year at Hogwarts, but was also listening carefully to her husband.

Severus knelt down on one knee, and wrapped his arms around his eldest, who quickly reciprocated. Hermione knew that it had to be incredibly emotional for him to see his son start his years at Hogwarts. She knew that this would also be a day Lucan would probably remember his entire life.

Severus drew away, placing his large hands upon his son's tiny shoulders. Hermione wondered if she had seemed that small and young and worried that many years ago. She thought of how alike they looked; Lucan had grown his hair long to emulate his father, for he revered him so much. Severus probably felt as though he was staring into his own grey eyes - he and his son looked almost identical.

"What if I don't belong there," Lucan blurted out, his pale face turning red. The last thing he wanted to do was display weakness in front of his father.

Severus squeezed his son's arm. He searched his eyes, and asked, "Did your mother ever tell you that you were born in the castle?"

Lucan shook his head, his jaw dropping. He replied, "Really? At Hogwarts?"

"Yes," Severus explained. "You were born there, and we lived there for almost a year together - you, your mother, and I. If anyone belongs there, it's you."

Lucan looked much happier. "So… Hogwarts is like my home?"

"Yes," Severus said, giving one of his rare grins. "It is very much your home." He looked away, and then said, "Good luck, son. I'll see you in class?" Lucan nodded his head, smiling. Severus felt his wife's hand on his shoulder, and quickly got to his feet.

"We only have a few minutes until the train leaves," Hermione said. She handed Antigone back to her father, turned towards Lucan, and rambled off, "Now, you write me the minute you get into your dormitory and tell me what House you're in and who you met. And then the next day, tell me how your classes went. And then, I want you to write me again so I know you haven't gotten into any trouble."

"All right, Mum," he said, brushing it off, looking as though he was now eager to debark.

More sternly than before, she said, "You know Gran will be there if you need anything - we expect you to visit her often - but please, _don't get into trouble_."

Severus broke his wife's concentration by asking his daughter, "Tig, don't you want to kiss your brother goodbye?" Severus leaned her over and she planted a small kiss on Lucan's head, a bit embarrassed, burrowing her face into her father's neck afterwards.

"Bye, Whil," Lucan said quietly. His younger brother rushed forward and hugged him around the middle. Despite all of the daily bickering between them, they did truly care about one another. Whil backed away and stood between his parents, and Severus put a hand on his shoulder. "Bye Mum," he said, looking up at them. "Goodbye, Dad." Lucan stepped off of the platform and climbed onto the train, cringing at the sound of the whistle blowing.

"Don't forget to change into your robes before you get there!" Hermione shouted after him. "Oh, Lukie," she said to herself, her eyes filling with tears.

Severus's arm was around her shoulders. They found their son several compartments away, sticking his head out of a window along with James Potter and Warren, Neville's son, as the train began to pull away from the station. All four members of the small Snape family waved at Lucan as he waved back.

Harry and Ginny were standing not too far away with their two younger children. "Albus Severus," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head as he saw the boy standing on the platform. "What a poor choice in name." Hermione smirked, but didn't say anything.

"Daddy, when will Luke be back home?" Antigone asked, playing with the little black buttons along the front of his robes.

"Not until Christmas," he explained, running his hand along her back.

"But… but what about you?" she cried, her lip trembling as she became upset. She placed her hands on his cheeks, and then ran them through his hair, and asked, "Do you have to go too?"

"Don't you remember? I work every year from autumn until spring, and then take a break during the summer." Her face turned red and she began to whine, at which point her father explained, "I'll be home every evening, don't worry. You'll be starting school with your mum, and by the time you're done with schoolwork I'll be home."

"Every day?" she asked, looking up at him with soft grey eyes.

"Every day, I promise." Antigone finally settled down, swinging her legs gently as she stuck her thumb into her mouth and leaned her head on her father's shoulder.

"Where do you think he'll be sorted?" Hermione asked her husband, still focused on the train in the distance.

"Ravenclaw," Severus said confidently, without hesitating.

"I thought so too." They stood together, watching the train disappear from sight. "I wish you would retire," Hermione said quietly, looking up at her husband out of the corner of her eye, before leaning down and picking up Whilom to hold in her arms.

He did not refute her as she expected, but instead responded, "I have to be there for him."

They stood there, letting the realization that their son would no longer be living at home with them sink in, when Antigone suddenly asked, "Daddy, what's this?" She ran her little hand along the white scars across his throat, the ones left by Nagini's fangs.

He sighed, looking down at her after the train had pulled completely out of sight. "I'll tell you when you're older," he explained, readjusting her in his arms and pulling her closer.

"Mummy, let's go home," Whilom whined. All of the remaining families were now shuffling off of the platform, talking between themselves joyously even though the feeling of loss was tangible. It was always a bittersweet moment.

"Yes, Whil," she complied. "I think it's time to go home."

* * *

Wow, I can't believe this is the last time I'm going to update this fanfiction! I have really loved every moment I've been writing it (for the past 16 months), and I've definitely poured a lot of my heart and soul into it. I've never completed a full length story (of any kind) before, so this is definitely a milestone for me. I want to thank everyone who has read it and stuck by me the whole way through - I feel completely honored. And I really do mean that.

I'm sure I will be writing some short little drabbles about this family that I love so much, so if you'd be interested in reading about them in the future I would suggest adding me to your Author Alerts. If there is anything in particular you would like to see - from Severus as a child to him with his own children - let me know! Also, if you feel inspired to make any fanart, please send me a link so I can show it off to the world and promote your work! (Believe me, if you did, you would be my favorite person in the world!)

And finally, if you really _have _made it this far, please send me a review and tell me what you think!

Love, Maria


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